


Ships in the Night

by thetimeladyswan



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Additional Characters to be added, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cursed!Killian, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, cursed!Wendy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-02-25 01:10:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 32,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2603012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetimeladyswan/pseuds/thetimeladyswan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Killian Jones and Wendy Darling met in Neverland, and formed a close alliance and friendship. Little did they know that that would lead to spending twenty-eight years living as father and daughter in a town called Storybrooke, Maine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I started this story a few months ago (April, wow o.O) and promptly hit a brick wall two chapters in, which is why I haven't posted it on here yet. But now I've gotten more ideas and written a few chapters (which are in the future, unfortunately. Still kinda stuck on the chapter that covers the events of 'The Shepherd') and am now excited about this story again.
> 
> Idea from this gifset: http://bamonbrigade1.tumblr.com/post/79796302101/ouat-au-in-which-captain-hook-and-wendy-are  
> Title from this song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BCkfTCjF8SM (and the quote from the end of s3, which was ironic XD)

* * *

Emma awoke with a start, on her first morning in Storybrooke. It took her a moment to remember where she was. She slid out of bed, pulling the curtain away, looking out at the town. The clock had moved, just like Henry had said it would.

 

She sighed. She needed a coffee.

 

No sooner had she gotten one for herself than there was a knock on the door. Opening it, she found that the mayor stood there, a basket of fruit in her arms.

 

“Did you know the honey crisp tree is the most vigorous and hardy of all apple trees?” asked Regina, with a wide smile, in lieu of a ‘hello’.

 

Emma confused, looked from the Mayor to the basket of red apples she held.

 

“It can survive temperatures as low as forty below and keep growing. It can weather any storm. I have one that I've tended to since I was a little girl. And to this day, I have yet to taste anything more delicious than the fruit it offers.”

 

She plucked an apple from the basket, holding it out to Emma with a fake smile.

 

“… Thanks,” said Emma, taking the apple.

 

She extended the basket to her. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy them on your drive home.”

 

“Actually, I’m gonna stay for a while.”

 

Regina’s smile vanished. “I'm not sure that's such a good idea. Henry has enough issues, he doesn’t need you confusing him.”

 

“All due respect, Madam Mayor, but the fact that you have now threatened me twice in the last twelve hours makes me wanna stay more.”

 

“Since when were apples a threat?”

 

“I can read between the lines,” said Emma, with a fake smile of her own. “Sorry, I just wanna make sure Henry’s okay.”

 

“He’s fine, dear. Any problems he has are being taken care of.”

 

“What does _that_ mean?” asked Emma, concerned.

 

“It means I have him in therapy. It's all under control. Take my advice, Miss Swan, only _one_ of us knows what's best for Henry.”

 

“Yeah, I’m starting to think you’re right about that,” she said, looking Regina in the eyes.

 

“It’s time for you to go.”

 

Her expression didn’t change. “Or what?”

 

“Don’t underestimate me, Miss Swan,” said Regina, taking a step towards her, all pretences long forgotten. “You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

 

* * *

 

 

Emma looked up from the newspaper as Ruby placed a mug of hot chocolate in front of her. “Here you go.”

 

“Thank you,” she said, lowering the apple she was about to take a bite of. “But I … did not order that.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” the waitress smiled, leaning across the counter. “You have an admirer.”

 

Emma looked over her shoulder, noticing the Sheriff sitting at a booth on his own. She sighed, setting down the paper and picking up the hot cocoa instead.

 

“Ah,” said Graham, leaning back in his seat. “So you decided to stay.”

 

“Observant; important for a cop.”

 

“That’s good news for our tourist business, it’s _bad_ for our local signage.”

 

Emma shot him a look.

 

“It’s – it’s a joke ... because you ran over our sign ...”

 

“Look, the cocoa was a nice gesture,” she said, glancing down at it to avoid eye contact. “And I am impressed that you guessed that I like cinnamon in my chocolate, ‘cause most people don’t – but I am _not_ here to flirt, so, thank you, but no thank you.”

 

She set the mug down on the table. Graham shook his head.

 

“I didn’t send it.”

 

“I did. I like cinnamon, too.”

 

Emma looked up to see Henry climbing out of a booth. “Don’t you have school?”

 

“Duh, I’m ten,” he said, as he approached her, hoisting his schoolbag onto his back. “Walk me.”

 

They left the diner, crossing the street. Emma tossed the apple from one hand to the other. “So, what’s the deal with you and your mom?”

 

“It’s not about us, it’s about her curse. We have to break it. Luckily, I have a plan. Step one: identification. I call it, ‘Operation Cobra’.”

 

“Cobra?” she asked, holding the apple in one hand. “That has nothing to _do_ with fairy-tales.”

 

“Exactly,” Henry looked up at her. “It’s a codename. It’ll throw the queen off the trail.”

 

“So, everyone here is fairy-tale character, they just don't know it?”

 

“That’s the curse. Time’s been frozen … until you got here.”

 

Thoughtful, Emma raised the apple to her mouth.

 

“Hey!” Henry exclaimed. She took it away quickly, shocked. “Where’d you get that?”

 

“Your mom.”

 

“Don’t eat that!” He took the fruit from her hand, throwing it over his shoulder. Emma watched. She had been looking forward to eating that apple.

 

“… Okay. Uh, all right. What about their pasts?”

 

“They don’t know,” Henry told her. “It’s a haze to them. Ask anyone anything, and you’ll see.”

 

“So … for decades, people have been walking around, in a haze, not ageing, with screwed up memories, stuck in a cursed town that kept them oblivious.”

 

“I knew you’d get it!” Henry beamed. “That’s why we need _you._ You’re the only one who can stop her curse.”

 

She stopped. “Because I’m the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming?”

 

“Yes!” Henry took his schoolbag from his back. “And right now we have the advantage. My Mom doesn’t know that.” He handed her several ripped out pages from _Once Upon a Time._ “I took out the end. The part with you in it. See? Your mom _is_ Snow White!”

 

She looked at the illustration of Prince Charming holding a baby wrapped in a blanket. _Her_ blanket. And then at Henry. “Kid …”

 

“I know the hero never believes at first, if they did, it wouldn’t be a very good story. If you need proof, take them, read them. But whatever you do, _don’t_ let her see these pages. They’re dangerous. If she finds out who you are … then it would be bad.”

 

“Okay,” she said, rolling the pages up. “I’ll take them.”

 

They reached the school.

 

“I gotta go, but I’ll find you later and we can get started. I knew you’d believe me!”

 

“I never said I did!”

 

“Why else would you be here?” he grinned, running off toward the school.

 

Mary Margaret, who had witnessed the scene, approached. “It’s good to see his smile back.”

 

“I didn’t do anything.”

 

“You stayed. So … does the Mayor know you’re still here?”

 

“Oh, she knows,” Emma nodded. “What is her deal? She’s not a great people person, how did she get elected?

 

“She’s been Mayor as long as I can remember,” Mary Margaret explained. Emma remembered what Henry had said about everyone’s memories. “No one’s ever been brave enough to run against her. She inspires quite a bit of … well, fear. I’m afraid I only made that worse by giving Henry that book. Now he thinks she’s the Evil Queen.”

 

“Who does he think you are?”

 

She scoffed. “It’s silly …”

 

“I just got five minutes of silly,” Emma laughed. “Lay it on me.”

 

“Snow White.”

 

* * *

 

 

Emma sighed as she reclaimed her seat at the counter of Granny’s Diner. If Henry was to be believed, then Mary Margaret was her _mother._ She didn’t know quite how to process that.

 

“Hey,” said Ruby. “Do you want your cocoa?”

 

“If you don’t mind,” she smiled at the waitress. Glancing over her shoulder, she found that Graham was still sitting at the booth, though now he was not alone.

 

“I’ll drop it down,” said Ruby, with a sly smile.

 

“Thank you.”

 

She approached the table, smiling as the two men noticed her. “Hello.”

 

“Emma. How’s Henry?”

 

“He – he’s good,” she said, glancing from Graham to the other man.

 

“Killian Jones,” he smiled, offering a hand to her. She noticed that the other was a prosthetic.

 

“Emma Swan,” she replied, accepting the handshake and sliding into the booth beside Graham.

 

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Swan,” said Killian, with a smile that was more like a smirk.

 

“Hmm. Front page of a newspaper will do that to you. And, for the record, there was a wolf in the middle of the road. I swerved to avoid it.”

 

“I believe you,” he said, in a voice that suggested he didn’t.

 

She spared him a look, before turning to Graham. “Look, I’m sorry for … assuming.”

 

“It’s fine, Emma.”

 

“Good,” she smiled, as Ruby placed her warmed-up hot chocolate on the table. “Thanks, Ruby. So … how do you two know each other?”

 

“We met in college … I think,” said Graham, his forehead creasing into a frown. “Yeah. We were roommates for a while.”

 

“Your memories haven’t failed you, have they, mate?” Killian joked.

 

 _According to Henry, they have,_ she thought wryly, taking a sip of her chocolate. She was worried about that kid.

 

“Shouldn’t you be getting back to work, _mate_?”

 

Killian sighed. “Don’t remind me.”

 

“Dead-end job?” Emma guessed.

 

“My chosen career for the last three years, actually.”

 

She raised an eyebrow, taking another sip of hot chocolate. “Doesn’t sound chosen. What do you do, anyway?”

 

“He sells fish at the docks,” said Graham. “Certainly not the most glamorous of careers, but Aiden is a good guy.”

 

“Speaking of … I’d better head. See you later, Graham. It was lovely to meet you, Emma.”

 

“Bye.”

 

“He seems …” Emma began, but, unable to find a word, merely took a drink of her cocoa.

 

Graham laughed. “I know the feeling. He’s a good man. Promise.”

 

“I suppose I have to believe the Sheriff,” she smiled. “Anyway, I’d better get going too. There’s someone I need to see …”

 

“See you around, Emma.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

* * *

 

 

Emma opened the door of her room at Granny’s for the second time that day. This time, her visitor was the Sheriff.

 

“See, when you said ‘see you around’, I thought you meant in a couple days or something.”

 

Graham smiled humourlessly. “Actually, I'm here about Dr. Archibald Hopper. He mentioned you got into a bit of a row with him earlier?”

 

She frowned. “No …”

 

“I’m shocked, too, given your shy, delicate sensibilities.” The smile was still there. “He says you demanded to see Henry’s files and when he refused you came back and stole them.”

 

“He _gave_ them to me.”

 

“Alas, he’s telling a different tale. May I check your room? Or must I get a search warrant?”

 

Emma sighed, opening the door. She made her way over to the bed, gesturing to Henry’s file, which she had recently been reading. “This what ya looking for?”

 

He picked up a page, glancing from it to Emma. “Well, you're very accommodating. But, I'm afraid, Miss Swan, you're under arrest. Again.”

 

She sighed as he cuffed her. “You know I’m being set up, don’t you?”

 

“And whom, may I ask, is setting you up?”

 

“Regina. She wants to keep me away from Henry.”

 

“Ah. Of course.”

 

“You don’t believe me, do you?” she asked, squinting at him.

 

“Unfortunately, no.”

 

“You know the shrink is lying, right?” she tried again, as the Sheriff took mug shots of her.

“To the right, please.” She obeyed him. “Why would he lie?”

 

“The Mayor put him up to this,” Emma replied. “She’s gotta have something on him. He’s terrified of her, like everyone else in this – town.”

 

“To the left. Regina may be a touch intimidating, but I don’t think she’d go as far as a frame job.”

 

“How far would she go?” asked Emma, narrowing her eyes. “What does she have her hands in?”

 

“Well, she’s the Mayor. She has her hands in everything.”

 

She raised an eyebrow. “Including the police force?”

 

He shot her a look.

 

“Hey!” called a familiar voice. Henry ran into the station, followed closely by Mary Margaret.

 

“Henry! Henry, what are you doing here?”

 

“His mother told him what happened,” Mary Margaret explained.

 

“Of course she did!” Emma rolled her eyes. She looked down at Henry. “Henry, I don't know what she said—”

 

“You're a genius!” he exclaimed.

Emma stared. “What?”

 

“I know what you were up to. You were gathering Intel,” he said, leaning closer. “For … Operation Cobra.”

 

“I'm sorry, I’m a bit lost …”

Henry turned to Graham. “It’s … need to know, Sheriff, and all you need to know is that Miss Blanchard’s gonna bail her out.”

Emma frowned at the teacher. “You are? Why?”

 

“I – uh – trust you.”

 

“Well. If you could un-cuff me …” she extended her wrists to Graham. “I have something to do.”

 

* * *

 

 

“What the hell are you doing?!”

 

Emma looked up to see the infuriated mayor approaching her. She dropped the chainsaw she had been using to cut one of the branches of the tree. “Picking apples.”

 

“You’re out of you mind!” Regina exclaimed.

“No, _you_ are, if you think a shoddy frame job’s enough to scare me off. You’re gonna have to do better than that. If you come after me one more time, I'm coming back for the rest of this tree,” she picked an apple from the ground. “Because, sister, you have no _idea_ what _I_ am capable of. Your move.”

 

She walked away from the house, to find Killian standing there, smiling.

 

“Nice, one, Swan.”

 

She merely smiled. “Apple?”

 

“I’d rather not. Who knows what kind of poison there is in that.”

 

Emma laughed, as they walked down the street together. “Henry thinks that too. This morning, he actually took the apple from me and threw it away.”

 

“Well, if she is the Evil Queen, then we should all know better than to accept an apple from her. You know what happened to Snow White.”

 

Emma glanced at him. “You know Henry?”

 

“Aye,” he nodded. “He goes to school with my daughter.”

 

“Oh?” she raised her eyebrows. “They’re not friends?”

 

Killian grimaced. “Henry doesn’t really have any friends.”

 

“Yeah …” Emma murmured. “So I’ve noticed.”

 

* * *

 

 

Emma knocked on the door of Mary Margaret’s apartment, a sense of doubt settling in her stomach. After this, she would leave. But did she _want_ to? She still wasn’t sure if Henry was okay – she was less sure than ever, now. And, like it or not, she was making friends. Mary Margaret, Graham … Killian.

 

“Hey,” she said, when Mary Margaret opened the door. “Just wanted to say thank you, and, um, pay you back the bail money.” She held out an envelope with the money, sighing.

“You look like you need to talk,” smiled the woman, a knowing look in her eyes.

 

She nodded, and was escorted into the loft.

 

“Hot cocoa?” Mary Margaret asked, setting the envelope down on the worktop.

 

“Yes please,” Emma smiled, sitting at the table.

 

“Here you go.”

 

“Thanks.” She took a sip. “Cinnamon?”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she apologised, sitting at the table. “I should have asked. It’s a little quirk of mine. Do you mind?”

 

“Not at all,” Emma replied. She could hear Henry’s voice in her head. “ _See? Snow White_ is _your mom!_ ” Mary Margaret offered her a cookie. She shook her head. “No, thanks. When you bailed me out, you said … that you trusted me.”

 

Mary Margaret nodded.

 

“Why?”

 

“It’s strange – ever since you arrived here, I’ve had the oddest feeling – that we’ve met before. I mean, I know it’s crazy.”

 

“I’m starting to re-evaluate my definition of crazy,” she murmured.

 

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re innocent.”

 

“Of breaking and entering, or just in general?”

 

“Whichever makes you feel better,” Mary Margaret laughed.

 

“Doesn’t really matter what anyone thinks I did or didn’t do. I’m leaving. Thank you for everything, but I think it’s for the best. If I stay, Henry’s only gonna keep getting hurt.”

 

The schoolteacher considered her. “What happens if you go?”

 

Emma said nothing.

 

“I think the very fact that you _want_ to leave is why you have to stay. You care about him. Who will protect Henry if you won’t?”

 

“You’re right. I have to stay. Thank you, Mary Margaret. I really appreciate it.”

 

“Where are you going?” the teacher called after her, as she stood up.

 

“To talk to my son.”


	2. Chapter Two

* * *

Wendy took a deep breath, steeling herself, as she stepped aboard _The Jolly Roger._ It hadn’t been easy to find, but after escaping Pan, she knew that she had to continue with her original plan to find Baelfire.

 

And this is where he was, according to the information she had bought with her mother’s necklace.

 

She shivered, as she made her way cautiously across the deck. She wished she had something to wear other than her nightgown, but now was not the time to complain.

 

“Who are you, and how did you find my ship?”

 

The young girl winced at the feel of the dagger as it was placed to her throat. She didn’t move. “My name is Wendy Darling. I come from another realm. The shadow tried to take my brothers.”

 

“And you took their place?” the man asked, voice mocking. She felt cold metal at her side as well, and was horrified to find that her captor had a hook for a hand. Captain Hook. “How _heroic_ of you.”

 

“No,” she replied, standing a little straighter. She would not allow herself to be frightened. “Another boy did. A friend of mine. I was told I’d find him here.”

 

The dagger withdrew, just slightly. “Why would there be a boy on a pirate ship?”

 

“You tell me.”

 

“What was the name of this boy?”

 

“Baelfire,” said Wendy, chancing a look up at the pirate. “Is he here?”

 

The weapon disappeared altogether. Wendy turned to face the man.

 

“I’m afraid not, lass,” said Hook, sounding genuinely sad as he pocketed his dagger. “He left.”

 

The girl folded her arms, partly to guard against the cold. “You didn’t look for him?”

 

“We didn’t part on the best of terms. Look – Wendy – you don’t belong in Neverland. Pan’s Shadow usually only takes young lads. Perhaps it will take you home, and you can be with your brothers.”

 

“It won’t.”

 

The Captain raised his eyebrows. “What makes you so sure?”

 

“Because Pan had every intention of keeping me prisoner,” Wendy explained, trying to keep the anger from her voice. “Of using me against my brothers. I only narrowly escaped him.”

 

Captain Hook stared at the girl in front of him. Her blonde curls fluttered in the wind. She was slightly built, and was wearing nothing but a nightgown and soft shoes. It was highly unlikely that she had escaped Pan. Unless that was what he wanted her to believe.

 

“You haven’t escaped him. Get below deck. Now!”

 

* * *

 

 

“Papa?” asked Wendy, tying her blonde curls back in a ponytail as she descended the stairs. “Have you seen my schoolbag?”

 

Killian frowned, looking up from the omelette he was making them for breakfast. “I think it was in the living room.”

 

The girl disappeared into the next room, in search of her backpack.

 

“Found it!” she called triumphantly, after a moment or two, returning to the room and sitting at the kitchen island. “Thanks, Dad.”

 

Killian was surprised at that. Wendy always called him ‘Papa’, reserving the title of ‘Dad’ for the father she barely remembered. “Can you get us some plates?”

 

“You’re still coming to the hospital today, right?” she asked, almost worriedly, setting two plates down on the counter and pouring herself a glass of orange juice.

 

“Of course,” Killian assured her, tipping half of the omelette onto each plate. “I wouldn’t miss it. And not just because Mary Margaret would get mad at me.”

 

Wendy laughed. “You’re not afraid of Miss Blanchard.”

 

He cocked his head, sitting down next to the girl that he had come to know as his daughter in the last five years of her life. “True, but it doesn’t mean she’s not scary when she wants to be.”

 

Wendy agreed with that, possibly remembering the time she and Henry had gotten in trouble for trying to steal one of the books in Mary Margaret’s classroom.

 

They ate in silence, until the sound of the clock ringing out startled them both. They glanced at each other.

 

“It’s working?”

 

Killian checked his watch. “Must be. You’d better get going.”

 

Wendy nodded, cramming the final forkful of omelette into her mouth and gulping down her orange juice. She slid off her stool, slung her schoolbag onto her back, and said, “Bye Papa.”

 

“I’ll see you later at the hospital,” he replied, kissing her on the cheek goodbye. “Be good!” he added, as she made to leave.

 

She opened the front door, glancing back at her guardian with a grin. “I’m always good.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Cap’n?” asked Smee, evidently frightened. “Who was the girl? What’s going on?”

 

“The Lost Boys should be on their way. Listen to me, Mr Smee. You saw no girl. There are no girls in Neverland. Understood?”

 

The last remaining member of his crew nodded tightly. “I suppose I’ll be needing my cutlass.”

 

“I suppose you will.”

 

Smee out of sight, Killian leaned against the side of his ship. “Felix. Fancy seeing you here.”

 

The boy smirked, weapon slung across his shoulder. “What is it with you and children Pan’s looking for?”

 

He cocked his head. “Come again?”

 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Hook. Where is the girl?”

 

“Girl?” he asked. “I’ve never seen a girl in Neverland. I assumed that was the whole ‘Lost Boy’ thing.”

 

Felix approached. “You did the right thing when it came to the boy. I’m going to give you a chance. But after that, I’m going to tear this ship apart.”

 

Hook smiled a wide, fake smile. “I look forward to it. Bye now.”

 

“Cap’n?” asked Smee uncertainly.

 

“It’s all right, Mr Smee. They’re gone. For now.”

 

“Who’s the girl?” he asked, as they made their way below deck.

 

“A friend of Baelfire’s. Her name is Wendy. She was Pan’s prisoner.”

 

The man removed his red cap, clutching it tightly in his worry. “And you think we can hide her?”

 

“We hid Baelfire successfully enough, didn’t we? I don’t intend to make the same mistake with the girl. Wendy?” he opened the door of his quarters. “Are you all right?”

 

The young girl, who was seated on his bed, nodded. “Who was that?”

 

“Pan’s right-hand man,” Killian replied wryly, crossing the room. “He offered me a choice; hand you over or have him tear this ship apart.”

 

“You won’t, will you?” asked Wendy, fear in her voice. “Hand me over?”

 

“We wouldn’t dream of it.”

 

It was only them that Wendy seemed to notice the other presence in the room. Mr Smee tipped his head towards her before pulling the cap back on. “Milady. William Smee, at your service.”

 

The girl smiled as Hook sat next to her, shaking her head. “I’m not a lady. Just a … lost girl.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Coffee, please, Ruby,” Killian requested, sitting at the counter of Granny’s. “Morning, Swan.”

 

She glanced up from the newspaper she’d been reading – thankfully, without her face on the front page that particular morning – and smiled. “Jones.”

 

“You’re sticking around, then?” he observed, as Emma folded up the _Storybrooke Daily Mirror_. “Even with Regina?”

 

To his surprise, the woman chuckled. “She’s giving me even more reasons to stay. I’m worried about Henry.”

 

Killian nodded. “Rightly so.”

 

She considered him for a moment. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

 

“Day off.”

 

She quirked an eyebrow. “And you sit around in Granny’s on your days off?”

 

“No.” Ruby set his coffee in front of him. “I volunteer at the hospital on my days off.”

 

He paid for his coffee, and stood, picking up the to-go cup. “I’ll give Henry your best. See you around, Swan.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Captain?” asked Wendy, approaching the ship’s wheel. She was still wearing her nightgown, but was wrapped in a cloak to ward against the chill of the sea air. They had left the port hours ago for the relative safety of the open water.

 

“You can call me Killian, if you’d prefer,” he said, focusing his attention on steering the ship rather than the girl behind him. They were in calm waters now. He could let the ship simply drift. He turned to Wendy, and made a sweeping bow. “Killian Jones. They only call me Hook because of this,” he raised his left arm. “Though it can prove a useful tool.”

 

“Mr Smee said that you’re searching for a way off this island. Where do you plan to go?”

 

“Back to my land. The Enchanted Forest. I don’t know if there’s a way to get you home as well.”

 

She merely shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Best that we leave this … place. My family will be safe together.”

 

He considered the girl, surprised. “How selfless of you.”

 

Wendy raised an eyebrow. “Are you mocking me again?”

 

“No, I’m quite serious.”

 

She folded her arms. “I’ll take it. So, where are we headed, _Killian_?”

 

“The jungle.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Henry?”

 

The young boy glanced up at Killian. “Hey, Mr Jones. Are you looking for Wendy?”

 

He shook his head. “Miss Blanchard was wondering where you were. What are you doing in here?” he added, glancing between Henry and the coma patient that occupied the room they were in.

 

Henry beamed. “I figured out who he is.”

 

“Back in the fairy-tale world, you mean?”

 

The boy nodded, opening his book to a page with an illustration of Prince Charming. “See the scar?” he asked, pointing at the picture. “Mr Doe has one just like it. Snow White gave it to him. With a rock.”

 

Killian chuckled. “I’m sure that was a sight to see.”

 

Henry shut his book, considering the unconscious man.

 

“You think he’s Emma’s father?” Killian grinned at the boy. “Well, he does have her chin. C’mon, let’s get you back to your class.”

 

“Have you seen Wendy yet?” asked Henry, ducking under his arm as he held the door open.

 

“Can’t say that I have, lad.”

 

“She’ll be happy to see you. I’ll help you find her.”

 

“Henry!” Mary Margaret Blanchard exclaimed, concern in her voice. “Where were you? First Wendy—”

 

“Wendy’s missing?”

 

“I’m sure she’s around her somewhere,” the schoolteacher assured him. “She was probably looking for you.”

 

“Can I help you look?” asked Henry, hopeful.

 

“No, you can help the others with the decorations. Go on; Miss Ginger’s helping you.”

 

After whining about how Miss Ginger was awful, the boy returned to his classmates.

 

“I hope you don’t make a habit of losing your students on school outings.”

 

Mary Margaret rolled her eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

“You’ll take me with you, you promise?”

 

“I may be a pirate, but I honour my deals, fairy. My ship is just beyond this next ridge.”

 

“How do you propose we leave this place?” asked Tinker Bell, as they continued to walk.

 

“A long time ago, I made a deal of sorts with Pan. It didn’t end well for me, but perhaps I can again.”

 

“You want to _bargain_ passage?”

 

“I don’t see why not,” Killian glanced at the former fairy. “There are no beans, and you are without magic. Our choices are limited. Ah, Smee,” he smiled at his only remaining crewman. “Is all well?”

 

“No, Cap’n. The girl. She’s gone.”

 

“ _What?_ Was it the Lost Boys? Was she taken?”

 

“What girl?” Tinker Bell demanded. “There are no girls here! The shadow only takes boys!”

 

“She came to try and rescue her friend,” Killian explained, before turning his attention to Smee. “Did she leave lf her own accord?”

 

“I don’t know. I’m sorry, Cap’n.”

 

The three of them rushed back to the ship, only to find Wendy sitting on the deck.

 

“Wendy?” asked Killian, approaching her cautiously. “Are you all right?”

 

Brown eyes, shining with tears, met his own blue, telling him that no, she was not all right.

 

“I thought I saw Baelfire.”

 

He sat next to the girl, wrapping his good arm around her. “I’m sure he’s out there somewhere. He’s too clever to let the Lost Boys get ahead of him.”

 

Wendy nodded, wiping her tears away.

 

“If we find a way out, perhaps we could look for him. Offer him the chance to come with us.”

 

The girl looked up at him in awe. “You’d do that?”

 

“Aye. It’s the least I can do.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Gwendolyn Jones!”

 

Wendy winced, stopping in her tracks. Her teacher never called her by her given name – not even when she did something unfavourable. She had to be in deep trouble now.

 

“I’m sorry, Miss Blanchard,” she said, turning to face the woman. “I thought I saw someone I knew, but—” she shook her head, confused. “I was mistaken.”

 

“Your father’s worried sick!” Mary Margaret seemed unable to remain angry at her for very long. “Come on. I don’t want to be labelled as a bad teacher.”

 

“You’re a great teacher,” Wendy assured her.

 

“And I’m sure you’d say that if you weren’t in trouble.”

 

“I would! Honest!”

 

Miss Blanchard laughed, an arm around Wendy’s shoulders as she directed her back towards the ward where the others were.

 

“So, who were you looking for?”

 

“I – I don’t know …”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Gwendolyn Marie—”

 

“Papa.”

 

“I already did that,” Mary Margaret smiled, leaving father and daughter alone as she returned to her class.

 

“Where were you?”

 

Wendy sighed. “I was looking for someone – I thought I knew them, but … I didn’t.”

 

“You worried me,” her guardian admitted, voice low.

 

“I’m sorry, Papa,” she replied, sincerely. She hugged him, his bad arm coming around to hold her against his chest. “Though there’s not much that could happen to me in a hospital.”

 

“Shut up; It’s my prerogative to be worried.”

 

She grinned up at him. “So I’m not grounded?”

 

“We’ll see,” he replied, a reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

 

* * *

 

 

“Killian?” called Wendy, making her way along the passageway. She was sure she’d heard footsteps, which had to mean that Killian, Tinker Bell and Mr Smee had returned, which had to mean they’d found away off the island. She spotted the Pirate Captain. “There you are … what’s wrong?”

 

“I’m sorry, Wendy,” said Hook, voice low and guilt-ridden. “He’ll only allow for three of us – and _The Jolly_ – to leave the island. It’s enough for him to give you up as a prisoner. He must want Baelfire here, to whatever end.”

 

The girl nodded, her blonde curls bouncing. “I understand. We have to believe that he can find his own way off this island … wait, three?”

 

The Captain sighed, scratching his ear. “Tinker Bell … has deigned to stay behind.”

 

“No. She can’t. We _promised_ her.”

 

“She agreed to stay behind,” said Killian. “There’ll be no changing her mind now. She’s waiting above deck, to say goodbye.”

 

Wendy nodded again, leaving him alone to venture onto the deck, where the former fairy stood, leaning against the side of the ship.

 

“Tink?” she asked, walking towards her.

 

She turned, smiling down at the girl she had befriended. “Wendy. Are you all right?”

 

“No,” she answered truthfully, blinking furiously in an attempt to keep her tears at bay. “I have to leave you behind – and Baelfire.”

 

“I’ll look out for him, I promise,” Tinker Bell assured her. “Provided I can find him, of course. But don’t forget, Wendy, his being elusive is a good sign. If we can’t find him, neither can Pan’s brigade.”

 

“I know. You’re right. It’s just – hard.”

 

“Here,” said the fairy, placing something into Wendy’s hand. “A parting gift. Something to remember me by, perhaps.”

 

She glanced down at her open palm. A small vial of green dust, attached to a silver chain, sat there.

 

“I can’t get it to work,” said Tinker Bell. “Not without my wings. But it might be able to help you. Somehow.”

 

“Thank you,” she smiled, hugging the fairy.

 

“Are we ready to leave?” Killian asked, from behind them.

 

Wendy glanced over her shoulder at him. “I think so.”

 

* * *

 

 

Wendy played with the necklace she was wearing as she walked to Granny’s after school, remembering where it had come from. Not long after her parents had died, when Killian had come to take care of her. Long before she had accepted him as her guardian, her papa, he had bought her this necklace. ‘Fairy Dust’, or glitter in a bottle. Bought from a shop with two dollars, but still, the first gift he had given her, and the first time she had smiled at him.

 

Now she considered him her best friend. She had friendships with people at her school, but they weren’t quite the same. Henry was nice, but all they ever talked about was speculation over which fairy-tale character each person was. She had more in common with Paige, but she didn’t quite view her as a good friend either. And Ava could be hostile at times, reluctant to reveal anything about the situation she and her brother were in. Wendy worried about the Zimmer twins, sometimes.

 

“Wendy!” Henry beckoned her over to the booth at which he was sitting, storybook open in front of him. “You’ll never guess what happened!”

 

After a quick search of the diner, telling her that her guardian had yet to arrive, she sat across from Henry. “What? What happened?”

 

“Prince Charming woke up!” he beamed, pointing at one of the illustrations.

 

“Miss Blanchard woke him up?” asked Wendy, intrigued. They had long since agreed that Mary Margaret Blanchard had to be Snow White.

 

Henry nodded enthusiastically.

 

“Keep me posted?” asked Wendy, as her father entered the diner. Henry agreed that he would, and she bade him goodbye, returning to Killian.

 

“Henry seems happy,” he observed.

 

“Prince Charming woke up,” Wendy informed him.

 

“Did he, now? Well, that’s interesting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here starts my complete disregard of canon. Woo. We’ll see more Killian and Wendy backstory, including the whole Cora and Regina mess.
> 
> I believe that Wendy still has the desire to find someone, even though she doesn’t remember who it is she has to find, or that she’s already, in a way, found him (in Henry).
> 
> Hopefully Hook’s ideology of ‘I screwed up with Bae, I should help this girl’ works. If I get that far, I plan to have Wendy go to Neverland with the others to save Henry.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was hell to get out, and, as a result, is quite short. But here it is. The inclusion of a certain character will be explained in time; I'm sure you'll be able to figure out how it came to be. If anyone wants spoilers, I have that bit written already.
> 
> p.s. This is unbeta-ed, so forgive any mistakes, and if anyone wants to volunteer ...

* * *

 

Killian sighed as he shrugged on his leather jacket. He was reluctant to leave Wendy on her own, even though he’d done it countless times before. It was an excuse his brain had formulated, he supposed. He didn’t want to go to the party at the Nolans’ either. He felt sorry for David – the John Doe who was being forced into a life he didn’t want or remember.

 

The Mayor had – very pointedly at that – wanted as many people as possible to attend the party, claiming that she wanted to help her friend and her husband.

 

He heard footsteps behind him as he picked up his keys, and turned to see Wendy, brown eyes alight, standing in her best dress, hair tied back.

 

Killian leaned against the kitchen counter, lifting an eyebrow at his adopted daughter. “Aren’t you supposed to be in your room?”

 

Wendy, her argument ready, said, “If David _is_ Prince Charming, then he needs more than Henry to help him realise that. Trust me.”

 

He laughed, despite himself. “What are the chances of you going to bed and reading your book?”

 

She pretended to consider it for a moment. “Slim to none.”

 

“Get your coat.”

 

With a grin, Wendy returned to her bedroom, taking her jacket from where it hung on the back of the door and joining her father.

 

“Ready?” he asked her, and she nodded. “Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

 

“This is Jay – and this is Ellen, his wife … this is Killian—”

 

“Hi,” he smiled at David, who shook his hand.

 

“—and that’s his daughter, Wendy, over there.”

 

The couple moved to talk to Dr Whale. Killian made his way over to Wendy, who sat beside Henry and Emma, the three of them talking in hushed tones.

 

“Deputy,” he greeted with a smile, sitting in the space Wendy made for him. “ Henry. Can I join in on the conspiracy?”

 

“He doesn’t remember,” Henry said, in a low voice, tipping his head towards David. “You know why?"

 

Killian shook his head.

 

“Because … the curse isn’t working on him yet.”

 

“Henry …” Emma glanced at her son. “David has amnesia.”

 

“Which is preventing the curse from replacing his fairy-tale story with fake memories.”

 

“Like the ones we have?” asked Wendy, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

 

“Right,” Henry nodded at her. “And now’s our chance to help him. We just have to help him remember that he’s—”

 

“He’s Prince Charming.”

 

“We just have to jog his memory.”

 

“And how do you suggest we do that?” asked Killian.

 

“By getting him and Miss Blanchard together.”

 

“Because she’s Snow White,” Wendy nodded. Emma seemed less convinced.

 

“Didn’t we just try that?”

 

“And it woke him up,” Henry reminded her.

 

“Hey.”

 

The four of them looked up to see David standing there. “You’re the ones who saved me, right?”

 

“Oh, yeah, I guess,” Emma smiled, as she and Henry stood up. Wendy smiled up at the man.

 

“Hi.”

 

“Hey … Wendy, right?”

 

“Right.”

 

“Well, you’re the only people I know here.”

 

“You can hide with us,” Emma assured him.

 

“Fantastic,” said David, stopping a man carrying a tray of cocktail sausages to skewer one. “Thank you.”

 

“So, you ever use a sword?” asked Henry. Wendy rolled her eyes.

 

“I’m sorry?” he laughed. Emma shrugged, and he gestured to her with the cocktail sausage. “Emma, you live with Mary Margaret, right? You … know if she’s coming tonight?”

 

Emma looked sorry for the man. “No, she couldn’t make it.”

 

David nodded, twirling the cocktail sausage, gaze fixed on it.

 

“Why don’t you sit down, mate?” Killian suggested.

 

“Actually …” David glanced around. “I think I might get some fresh air. Everything’s just so …”

 

“I understand,” Emma nodded. “I won’t tell anyone you’ve gone.”

 

“Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

 

He left. Wendy exchanged a knowing look with the others before following.

 

“Mr Nolan!” she called after him. He turned, standing beside the sign that said ‘The Nolans’.

 

“Are you looking for Ms Blanchard?”

 

“No.”

 

The girl leaned against the doorframe, folding her arms. “Do you even know where she lives?”

 

“… No.”

 

Wendy smiled, giving directions to the man before slipping back inside, searching for her father.

 

Instead, she found a woman in a vibrant blue dress, her curly brown hair falling over one shoulder as she carefully considered which piece of cheese to skewer with her cocktail stick.

 

“Hey, Miss French!” she greeted, frightening the woman, who smiled at her nonetheless.

 

“Hello, Wendy. Have you read _Peter Pan_ yet?”

 

“I’m not finished,” she replied, smiling at the librarian. “But I like it so far. Have you seen my dad?”

 

“Yes, he’s … over there, with the Sheriff.”

 

“Thanks!”

 

“You’re welcome, Miss Jones.”

 

“Hey Graham!” Wendy beamed at the Sheriff, ducking under Kilian’s arm. He obliged, wrapping it around her shoulder.

 

“Hello, Wendy.”

 

“Catch any good criminals lately?”

 

Graham laughed. “Sadly, no. I think Emma was the most interesting, in fact. And she’s not exactly a criminal.”

 

“Well, I won’t _wish_ criminals upon you,” Wendy smiled. “But …”

 

“I appreciate the sentiment.”

 

She left the two to talk, making her way over to where Emma and Henry were talking to Dr. Whale. Kathryn approached them.

 

“Have you seen David?” she asked.

 

“Um, he …” Emma glanced around.

 

“No,” said Whale. Kathryn moved on to ask someone else.

 

“Where did he go?” Henry whispered.

 

“To see Miss Blanchard.”

 

Henry grinned.

 

* * *

 

 

“What’s the plan?” asked Wendy, as she and Henry sat under the tree in the schoolyard.

 

“We get Miss Blanchard and Mr Nolan together,” he replied, taking a bite of his sandwich.

 

“How?”

 

He paused, swallowing. “I don’t know. I think we need all of Operation Cobra on this.”

 

Wendy nodded. “Your mom and my papa.”

 

“They’ll know what to do.”

 

“What about Kathryn?” asked Wendy, after a glance around the schoolyard. “Princess Abigail, right?”

 

Henry grinned, as though proud that she had remembered. “Yeah.” Then a frown appeared on his face. “I haven't figured out who Prince Frederick is. If I knew, maybe we could do something …”

 

“But in the book, Prince Charming helps her. So maybe only he can in Storybrooke.” She glanced at Henry. “I’m not in the book. And neither is Killian.”

 

“I know. So?”

 

“So how did you know who we were?”

 

The boy gave a shrug. “I just knew.”

 

The bell rang, and they made their way back to Ms Blanchard’s classroom. She was standing by the door with David, talking to him in a low – but notably annoyed – voice. Henry and Wendy exchanged a look, and grinned.

 

* * *

 

 

“So,” said Killian, almost conversationally, as he handed a mug of hot chocolate to Wendy, sitting beside her on the sofa. “I hear that David Nolan left his wife. That wouldn’t have had anything to do with you and Henry, would it?”

 

“It actually wasn’t,” she replied, smiling. “We were at school when it happened. How did you hear, anyway?”

 

“Our new deputy."

 

She smirked, turning her head towards the television – where a Disney movie was playing – so that he wouldn’t see it. “Emma’s nice. I hope she sticks around. Henry likes having her here.”

 

“It’s good for him,” he agreed. Wendy smiled wider. Maybe Operation Cobra could be about more than just breaking the curse.


	4. Chapter Four

* * *

Killian raised his eyebrows. "You sure you're all right, mate?"

Graham kept his gaze focused on the dartboard. "Fine."

"Wendy seems to think differently. Out of the mouths of babes, and all that." (She had practically shoved him out the door, saying "I'm eleven, I'm perfectly capable of lying in bed and reading a book. Go.")

His friend ignored him, throwing two darts into the board; hitting the deer painted on it both times.

"Nice shot, chief," Sidney called out. Killian glanced over. He hadn't noticed the reporter there. "I bet you twenty bucks you can't do it again."

He chuckled, gaze flicking back to Graham, who, even in his current state, was perfectly capable of playing a good game of darts. He threw another dart, hitting the painted deer between the eyes.

"Next round's on him. Killian?"

He lifted up his glass, tipping it over to the side so the ice clinked. Ruby took it from him. "Rum, please."

The bell jangled as Emma entered the diner, stopping short at the sight of Graham. Ruby beamed.

"Emma! What can I get you?"

"Nothing," she replied stonily, turning to leave the diner. Graham threw a dart, which landed in the doorframe. Killian stood, confused.

"What the hell?" Emma exclaimed, outraged. "You could've hit me!"

"I never miss. You've been avoiding me since last night, when you saw me—"

"Leaving the mayor?" she cut him off, eyes wide with fury. "And yes, that is a euphemism. I'm not avoiding you, Graham, I just have no interest in having this conversation. It's your life – I really don't care."

She left the diner, Graham quick on her heels. Killian stared at the closed door for several seconds, before cursing and pulling on his jacket. He knew that Graham had been in some sort of relationship with Regina – had expressed his less than approving opinion more than once – but had accepted that it was none of his business.

"If I read _one word_ of this in the paper tomorrow—"

"My lips are sealed," said Sidney quickly. "I have more than just you to worry about."

Killian nodded. "Can't get fired, now can we? I'm glad we understand each other, Glass."

He left the diner, glancing around to find his friends. He spotted them; heard a few words of their argument, before Graham surged forward, kissing Emma. Killian took an unconscious step backwards, felt his jaw clench, and turned in the other direction to walk home.

* * *

Wendy was already in the kitchen when he arrived down the stairs the next morning. She had brewed coffee and was buttering bread for her lunch.

"How did it go last night?" she asked.

"Fine," he replied, a little more shortly than he had intended, taking a mug from the cupboard.

He couldn't see her, but he was sure that Wendy was sending him an admonishing look – could feel it on the back of his head. "How's Graham?"

Killian sighed, turning to lean against the worktop. He felt whatever rage he still had drain away at the look of concern on his daughter's face. Graham was still his friend; and he was obviously in a bad way. He hadn't been thinking straight. Killian sighed, loosening his iron grip on the coffee cup. It wasn't as if he had any right or reason to be jealous.

"Not good," he answered finally, pouring himself a mug of coffee. "But we're going to fix him."

"Good," Wendy smiled, placing her sandwiches into her lunchbox. "Can we go to Granny's for breakfast? We still have time."

The rage that he had felt was replaced with guilt. He'd overslept, thinking only of himself, and not the girl he'd promised to care for and protect. He smiled at her. "Sure."

* * *

"Hey Graham," she smiled, opening the door. "Papa's not here right now."

"Actually, I'm here to see you."

She frowned, but took a step back, allowing the sheriff to enter the house. "What's wrong?"

"You're friends with Henry, right?" asked Graham, sitting on the sofa. He didn't look very well, but she had known that already, before she'd even seen him.

"I suppose so. Why?"

"So … you know about the book, and the curse?"

Cautiously, she sat in the armchair. "You believe in that?"

"Honestly, I don't know what to believe anymore. I've been having these … flashbacks. I saw a wolf. And – and Mary Margaret with long hair."

"When did they start?"

"When I kissed Emma."

She shrank back. "You kissed Emma?"

He nodded, at least not looking as if he were pleased with himself, at any rate.

"So you knew Snow White ..." Wendy murmured, thoughtful. "I think we'll have to go see Henry. He has the book." She stood, heading to the hallway to pick up the phone. She waited with bated breath as it rang. It wasn't that she was scared of Regina – okay, she was scared of Regina – but she wasn't sure what she would say. Thankfully, it was Henry who answered.

"Hey."

" _Wendy?_ " she could hear the frown in his voice. " _What's wrong?_ "

"I need your help," she replied, glancing over her shoulder to where Graham was still sitting on the sofa. "Well, me and Graham. He's remembering who he was."

" _That's great!_ " Henry exclaimed. " _My mom's not here right now; you can come over._ "

"Let's go," she called to Graham, scribbling a note for Killian to find when he returned.

* * *

"When did your flashes begin?" Henry inquired, as Wendy and Graham sat on either side of him, and he flipped through _Once Upon a Time_.

"Right after I kissed Emma."

"You kissed my mom?" Henry frowned, before recovering. "What did you see?"

"A wolf. I saw that I had a knife in my hand and I was with Mary Margaret."

"Were you going to hurt her?" asked Wendy, leaning across to look at the book.

"Yes! How do you know that?"

Wendy shrugged. "Mary Margaret is Snow White."

"Which makes you the Huntsman."

"So, you really think that I could be another person."

"Makes total sense," Henry smiled. "You were raised by wolves – that's why you keep seeing one. It's your friend – your guide. It's trying to help you."

"I'm remembering this because I kissed your mother? H-how is that possible?"

"Well, you two do have a special connection. She owes you her life."

"Why?"

"Snow White's her mother and you spared her. If you hadn't, my mom wouldn't have been born."

"Wh-what happened after I spared Snow White?"

Wendy grimaced. "The queen took your heart."

"She ripped it out," Henry added. "It's kind of her thing. She never wanted you to be able to feel again."

"Let me see that book."

Henry obliged, handing the book to the sheriff. He flicked through the pages, stopping at an illustration of the Evil Queen in front of her vault. "What's that? I saw that, too. The wolf was howling at it."

"That's her vault," Wendy told him. "It's where she keeps her hearts. Yours is probably in there too."

"The wolf wants me to find it," said Graham, leaving the book on the bed. "Thank you both."

He left, rushing out of the room. Wendy, exchanging a look with Henry, followed.

"Hey," Emma greeted, at the sight of Graham. "Hear you're having a rough day."

"Who says?"

"Pretty much everyone. I think maybe you need to go home and get some rest."

"I'm fine."

She shook her head. "No, Graham, you're not fine. You just went to see a ten year old for help." Wendy emerged from the house. "… And an eleven year old. Wendy, what are you doing here? Where's your dad?"

"He wasn't at home when Graham came looking for help. I left him a note."

Emma sighed, fishing out her cell phone. "Wait here with Henry; I'll call him. Graham, you _need_ to go home and get some rest." She dialled Killian's number, only for him to appear, running towards them. "Great."

"Hey Papa," Wendy beamed at him. He shot her a look. He didn't appear to be mad, more concerned about Graham.

"It's my heart," said Graham, glancing around at them all, almost imploringly. "I need to find it."

"And how exactly are you planning to do that?" asked Killian.

"I just need to follow the wolf."

"What?" Emma frowned. "What wolf?"

"From my dreams. It's going to help me find my heart."

"I'm sorry. I thought we were talking in a metaphor here. You really think you don't have a heart?"

"It's the only thing that makes any sense. It's the only thing that explains why I don't feel anything."

Killian moved to stand beside Wendy, giving the other two some space.

"Listen to me, Graham. You have a heart. I can prove it." She took a step forward, placing a hand on his chest. "See? It's beating. It's real."

Graham shook his head, moving to take a step back. Emma took his hand, placing it where hers had been. "Feel that? That is your heart."

"No. It's the curse."

"You can't really believe that's true."

"Guys," said Wendy, suddenly.

"What?"

She pointed to where a wolf stood. It had to be the one Graham had described – with one blood-red eyes, and the other black. It turned, running away.

"Stay here," Killian ordered. She opened her mouth to say something, but shut it again, nodding. Killian ran after the other two, as Wendy returned to the house.

"Graham!" Emma called, as the three of them reached the graveyard.

"Graham, mate, be careful."

"He's my friend," he assured them. "He won't hurt us."

The wolf stopped, howling, before running farther into the graveyard.

"We lost it," Killian said, stopping to get back his breath. But Graham had stopped in front of the crypt.

"What is it?" asked Emma.

"It's my heart. It's in there," he said, still glancing up. He pulled out a flashlight. "I have to look in there."

"Oh, no!" Emma rushed after him. "Stop, stop."

"I have to get in there, please—"

"Graham, come on! You really think that your heart is in there?"

He nodded, and her expression softened. Killian looked away.

"Okay, let's find out. Killian? You coming with?"

"I'll stay here," he replied, still not looking around. "Keep watch."

Emma nodded, trying to open the doors to the crypt, only to find that they were locked. "Come on!" she exclaimed in frustration. She kicked them open, and she and Graham went in.

"It's got to be in here," said Graham, determination in his voice as he scanned the walls of the crypt. "There's got to be a hidden door. A lever. Something." He moved one of the urns, but nothing happened.

"Graham. Hey. Graham, there's nothing in here."

"There has to be," he replied, a note of desperation in his voice. "If there isn't, then—"

"It's okay," she soothed. "It's going to be okay."

"Madam Mayor," said Killian, very loudly. "Fancy seeing you here."

Regina regarded him coldly. "What are you doing here, Jones?"

"I might ask you the same."

"I'm bringing flowers to my father's grave. Like I do every Wednesday." She looked around, seeing Emma and Graham exiting the crypt. "And what do you think you're doing?"

"Don't blame her," said Graham quickly. "Or Killian. It's my fault. I wanted to look in there."

"Really?" Regina asked, the best look of curious concern she could muster on her face. "Why? What were you looking for?"

"Nothing. It was, uh … it was nothing."

"You don't look well, dear. Let's take you home," said Regina, grabbing one of Graham's arms and attempting to drag him with her. Killian raised his eyebrows at Emma, as Graham broke free.

"Regina, I … I don't want to go home. Not with you."

The fake concern was gone. "Oh? But you'll go with her."

"And I'm just decoration, am I?"

Emma shot a look at him, before facing Regina. "Hey. This is between you two – leave me out of it."

"She's right – it's between us." He looked determined, and Killian was suddenly proud of his friend. "And things have to change."

"And I wonder why that is all of a sudden."

"It has nothing to do with her. You know, I've realized that I don't feel anything, Regina. And I know now it's not me – it's you."

"So, you're leaving me for her?"

Graham shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "I'm leaving you for me."

"Graham, you're not thinking straight."

Killian almost snorted. The 'concern' had returned.

"Actually, for the first time, I am. I'd rather have nothing than settle for less. Nothing? Is better than what we have. I need to feel something, Regina, and the only way to do that is to give myself a chance."

"Graham—"

"I'm sorry. It's over."

"I don't know what I ever did to you, Miss Swan, to deserve this. To have you keep coming after everything I hold dear."

"I told you – it's not her."

"None of this happened until she got here."

"I'm sorry. Did you ever stop to think that maybe the problem isn't with me, but with you?"

"Excuse me?" Regina asked incredulously.

"Henry came and found me. Graham kissed me. Both were miserable. Maybe, Madam Mayor, you need to take a good hard look in the mirror and ask yourself why that is. Why is everyone running away from you?"

Killian took a step forward just as Regina punched Emma in the face. She fell into Graham.

"Regina!" he exclaimed. Killian reached them.

But Emma didn't need their help, recovering from the attack and punching Regina back. She grabbed the mayor, pushing her against the side of the crypt.

"Stop! Stop! Stop!" Graham exclaimed. Killian grabbed Emma's arms, pulling her away from Regina.

"Not worth it," she spat, turning to walk away. Killian followed.

"Graham."

Graham ignored her, following the other two.

"Are you okay?" Killian asked, as he caught up with them.

Graham nodded. "For the first time in a long while, actually. Emma?"

"It's just a scratch."

They walked to the station, where Graham took down the first aid kit, holding an ice pack against Emma's forehead. Killian leaned against the opposite desk, gaze trained on the floor.

"I'm sorry," Graham apologised. "I don't know what came over me. I kind of lost my mind."

"It's okay," Emma replied, voice soft. "You were tired and feverish … and heartbroken."

"I don't know why I let myself get caught up with her."

"Because it was easy," she said, her tone making it clear that she was speaking from experience. "And safe. Not feeling anything's an attractive option when what you feel sucks."

"I'm gonna … go get Wendy," Killian spoke up. He glanced at his friends, allowing himself the smallest of smiles. "I think you two will be happy together."

Before either of them could say anything, he left. He leaned against the wall of the Sheriff's Station, exhaling in a sigh. Jealousy was an almost-forgotten emotion, and an eye-opener, at that. But there was happiness, too, for his friend. Graham had freed himself of an unhealthy relationship, and already appeared happier.

Things were getting better.

* * *

"What do you think will happen?" asked Wendy, sipping the hot chocolate that Henry had made for the both of them. They sat on the sofa, waiting for someone to return and tell them what had happened.

"If Graham's remembering, then the curse is weakening," Henry smiled, glancing down at the book that still sat on his lap. "And that's down to Emma being here."

Wendy nodded. She'd known that much. "You think other people might start to remember? Like me? Or papa?"

"I don't know …" he murmured, expression thoughtful. "Maybe they have to kiss my mom." He wrinkled his nose. "We could set up a kissing booth?"

She laughed. "I don't think Emma would like that."

"No, she wouldn't."

The front door opened. They stood, as Killian entered the room. Wendy smiled at him, but it melted away when she saw the expression on his face, the tears that had dried on his cheeks.

"What happened?"

"Graham," he said, voice choked. "He's dead."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The POVs are kinda all over the place; really sorry about that.
> 
> There will be a funeral next chapter, because I felt that Graham deserved one on the show. But, after that, things should get a little happier.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one - originally intended to be two chapters; one of Graham's funeral and the other following the events of 'Desperate Souls', but this is what happened instead.
> 
> No flashbacks, though I did toy with the idea of including Wendy's cursed memories of her parents' funeral.

* * *

 

Wendy sighed, glancing at her reflection in the mirror. The dress that she wore was not dissimilar to the one that hid in the depths of her wardrobe. That had been five years ago. The memory had blurred, but the knives that cut into her chest were still as sharp as they had ever been.

 

Now, she had lost someone else.

 

True, Graham was certainly not as close to her as a parent; but he had been Killian’s best friend, and she had cared for him.

 

And he was dead.

 

She ran a hand through her hair, sighing again, this time at the tear tracks that marred her face. There was no point in washing them away, however. More would fall before the day was out.

 

There was a light rap on the door, and Wendy jumped, turning as her papa entered the room. He smiled a weak smile, which certainly didn’t reach his eyes. The usual sparkling blue had dulled to the same colour they had been when they’d first met.

 

“Are you ready to go?”

 

She nodded, glancing around her room, as if there was something she’d forgotten. Her eyes landed on the teddy bear sitting proudly against her pillow. With a sad smile, she grabbed it.

 

“He came to me for help, you know,” said Killian, as they left the house, Wendy hugging the toy close to her chest. “‘What do I buy a six-year-old who’s just lost her parents?’ And I said, ‘What are you coming to me for help for? I haven’t a clue!’”

 

She smiled, unable to muster a laugh. “I liked the fairy dust. And Barnabos. It was nice to know that somebody cared.”

 

“It wasn’t just us who cared,” he frowned down at her.

 

“You mean the people who invaded my house? Washed my face and told me everything was going to be all right?” Wendy scoffed. “They didn’t care.”

 

“I’m sorry ... that I wasn’t there sooner.” He smiled another humourless smile. “That’s my biggest regret; not being able to come to the funeral.”

 

“You didn’t know,” Wendy assured him, before someone slammed into her. “Henry!” she exclaimed, as he hugged her far too tightly. “I can’t breathe!”

 

“We can’t do Operation Cobra anymore,” he said, blinking back tears as he glanced from Wendy to Killian. “It’s my fault Graham’s dead—”

 

“Hey now, lad,” Killian crouched before him. “Graham died of natural causes. It was _not_ your fault.”

 

“And you really believe that?”

 

He hesitated. Graham’s death had been suspicious – but suspicious enough to start believing in fairy tales? “ _If_ it was Regina, then that wasn’t your fault either.”

 

“If we hadn’t shown him the book—”

 

“There’s no point in dwelling on ‘what ifs’,” said Wendy, voice hollow. “It won’t change anything.”

 

“My mom isn’t here,” Henry sighed, as the three of them continued on their way to the church.

 

“She was with him when he died,” Killian reminded him. “I’d have been very surprised if she _were_ here.”

 

“My other mom is here,” he continued bitterly. “She’s giving a eulogy.”

 

“I’m giving one too; don’t worry.”

 

Wendy stared at the back of Belle’s head as she sat two pews behind. If people close to her were dying, would she be next? Would Killian? Or even Emma?

 

She shook her head. She couldn’t think like that.

Regina’s eulogy described how Graham had been a good man, who cared for his community. There were no tears on her face, and no emotion in her voice. Wendy watched with thinly veiled disgust, clutching Barnabos to her chest.

 

Killian’s, however, was completely different. He stared down at a tear-stained sheet, crumpled from all the times he’d hidden it when Wendy came into the room, voice choked as he described how Graham had been a brother to him. How he’d helped him through the darkest time of his life – he had purposely forgone his prosthetic hand, and displayed the stump to the congregation.

 

“I owe him my life. And I can only hope he’s at rest.”

 

Wendy turned her gaze to the worn tiles to hide her tears. They dropped onto the ears of the stuffed bear.

 

After everyone had left – save for her and Killian, she set Barnabos by the grave, and they walked over to a familiar headstone.

 

_George and Mary Perkins_

_Beloved parents, friends and citizens_

The two of them stood in silence for several long moments, before Killian drew away, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. She sat before the grave, grateful that the grass was dry. “Hey Mom. Dad …”

 

* * *

 

 

Emma was grateful – despite the guilt that twinged in her gut – that Mary Margaret hadn’t pressed the matter of her attendance (or lack thereof) of Graham’s funeral. She’d merely sat at the end of Emma’s bed – where she sat, staring at the opposite wall.

 

“Are you sure?” Mary Margaret had asked, voice soft and non-judgemental. Emma hadn’t said anything in return, and her roommate had simply nodded and left.

 

That had been over two hours ago, and Emma was determined to be gone before Mary Margaret returned.

 

Well, not so much determined as uncertain.

 

She fiddled with the keys to the apartment as she decided, reading “Original Liquid & Paste Grate Polish Black Bird” so many times that she found herself wondering how the writing had come to be on the back wall, and why she hadn’t asked Mary Margaret yet.

 

Mary Margaret. Right. She would be back soon.

 

With a slight nod of her head – affirmation of her decision – she pocketed the keys and left the apartment.

 

The graveyard was empty when she arrived at it, as she had predicted – or perhaps hoped. She stood before Graham’s grave, eyes skimming over the flowers and one tattered teddy bear.

 

“Fancy seeing you here, Swan.”

 

Not _completely_ empty, then. She turned, the playful phrase sounding foreign to her ears without a jovial voice to accompany it. “You’re still here?” Killian nodded, scratching behind his ear. “Wendy’s talking to her parents.” “Talking—?” she cocked her head to the side. Killian gestured to his left, with his stump, she noted, wondering why he wasn’t wearing his prosthetic hand. Looking, she saw Wendy sitting cross-legged in front of a grave.

 

He smiled – or made a half-hearted attempt at one. “I thought it best to leave her be.”

 

“It’s gotta be tough on her.”

 

“She’s strong,” said Killian, pride leaking into his voice. Emma almost smiled. “But what about you?”

 

She avoided his gaze, focusing back on the teddy bear. An unusual token – usually only left on child’s graves. “What about me?”

 

“Are you all right? You weren’t at the funeral.”

 

“Couldn’t face it,” she replied, chancing a look at him. His eyes – which had been dull – now displayed concern. “Especially with Regina there.”

 

“You’re here now.”

 

“I’m here now,” she agreed.

 

“You’re Sheriff now, you know.”

 

Emma met his eyes again, wondering if her gratitude for changing the subject was reflected in her eyes, as his concern had been in his. “I am?”

 

“Well,” Killian scratched behind his ear again, “after two weeks, if no one else runs against you.”

 

“I doubt Regina would be too happy about me being Sheriff.”

 

He shrugged. “She can’t say anything about it.”

 

Emma actually smiled this time. “No, I guess she can’t.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Oh, hey, Killian,” said Emma, barely looking up from her work as he entered the Sheriff’s Station – really, she had no idea how much _paperwork_ Graham had done. Indeed, he had to wave the bear claw he’d brought (to most likely bribe her with) her to get her attention.

 

“Looks like _you_ could use a deputy,” he joked, as she took the doughnut.

 

“I still _am_ Deputy,” she reminded. “It hasn’t been two weeks yet. Anyway, what are you doing here?”

 

“I’d almost think you’re not happy to see me, Swan,” he said, mock hurt in his voice, before he picked up a box that he had left on a chair – it was a testament to the paperwork that Emma hadn’t noticed it before – and set it on the desk before her. “Mr. Gold called. Me, for some reason. Apparently, I was the closest thing Graham had to family.”

 

“You were,” said Emma, softly.

 

“And this is all that remains of his life. I was going to offer you first choice.”

 

Emma shook her head, though she stood (leaving her doughnut abandoned on the desk) and thumbed through the contents. “Take them.”

 

“Are you sure? Keepsakes can help – with the grieving process.”

 

Emma paused, biting back her retort and asking instead, “Who’d you lose?”

 

Killian smiled wryly. “My brother. Twice.”

 

She knew that he was referring to Graham, along with his own brother. She hadn’t know he’d _had_ a brother. “I’m sorry.”

 

He waved a hand, smiling now. “Actually—” he looked terribly amused—“it has.”

 

“What?” Emma frowned, the sound more akin to ‘wha’ through the mouthful of bear claw she had taken.

 

“It has been two weeks. You’re Sheriff now.”

 

She checked the calendar on the desk, which proved his words. It didn’t feel like that long – Graham’s death was still a fresh knife in her gut; Henry was still avoiding her; and she was still Deputy.

 

“Here.” She looked up again as he offered the Sheriff’s badge to her. Emma blinked, confusion still marring her brain.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry. That’s not for you.”

 

“Regina,” Killian forced his features into a laughable attempt at a smile, turning to face the Mayor. “How wonderful to see you.”

 

“It’s been two weeks,” said Emma. “Promotion’s automatic.”

 

Regina smiled coldly. “Unless the Mayor appoints someone else within the time period, which I’m doing today.”

 

“So, who’s the lucky duck?” asked Killian.

 

“After due reflection – Sidney Glass.”

 

Emma arched an eyebrow. “Sidney from the newspaper? How does that even make sense?”

 

“Well, he’s covered the Sheriff’s Office for as long as anyone can remember.”

 

“Not very memorable, if you ask me,” Killian muttered.

 

“And he’ll do whatever you want him to,” said Emma. “You just cannot stand the fact that things have been getting better around here, can you?”

 

“Better? Are you referring to Graham’s death as ‘better’?”

 

Killian clenched his jaw, fixing a dagger-like glare on the wall, rather than Regina. Emma cast her eyes down to the work on her desk. “No.”

 

“He was a good man, Miss Swan. He made this town safe, and forgive me for saying it, but you have not earned the right to wear his badge.”

 

She looked up again, steely determination in her eyes. “Graham picked me to be Deputy.”

 

“He was wrong.”

 

“Like hell he was!”

 

“Mr. Jones, if you wouldn’t mind leaving the conversation between me and Miss Swan.”

 

“He knew what he was doing,” said Emma, once Regina had turned back to her. “He freed this office from your leash. You’re not getting it back.”

 

“Actually, I just did. Miss Swan, you’re fired.” She held out a hand, and Killian, with a reluctant glance at Emma, dropped the Sheriff’s badge into it.

 

“Look on the bright side,” said Emma dully, after Regina had left. “No more paperwork.”

 

* * *

 

 

Henry was already at his castle when Emma arrived, carrying the two walkie-talkies that she had eventually been persuaded to take, withthe promise that Killian would take the rest of Graham’s possessions.

 

“Brought you something,” she said, handing one of the walkie-talkies to her sonand sitting next to him. “Thought we could use them together for Operation Cobra.”

 

Henry turned the device over in his hands. “Thanks.”

 

“Oh, come on!” she nudged his shoulder with her own. “What’s up? You’ve been ducking me for weeks.”

 

“I think we should stop Cobra stuff for a while. You don’t play with the curse. Look what happened to Graham.”

 

“Henry, I told you they did an autopsy,” she tried to reassure, voice soft. “It was totally natural causes.”

 

“Okay, whatever. You don’t believe – good. That should keep you from messing with it.” He looked up, into her eyes. “And getting killed.”

 

“You’re worried about me?” asked Emma, unable to ignore the way her heart warmed.

 

“She killed Graham because he was good – and you’re good.”

 

“Henry …”

 

“Good loses. Good always loses. Because good has to play fair – evil doesn’t.” He looked down again. “She’s evil. This is probably best. I don’t want to upset her anymore.”

 

Heplaced the walkie-talkie back in Emma’s hand, and left.

 

* * *

 

 

“Toaster broken?”

 

Emma glanced up from the aforementioned toaster, as Mary Margaret switched off the music that had been blasting through the apartment. She sighed. “Wasn’t when I started with it. Pretty sure it is now. Just needed to hit something.”

 

Mary Margaret set her grocery bag down on the counter, frowning at Emma. “What’s going on?”

 

“Regina—” she stuck the knife more savagely into the toaster in her attempts to pry it open—“fired me so she could put one of her own puppets in as Sheriff. It’s my job.”

 

Her statement was enough to give Mary Margaret pause – her roommate stopped with a bag of celery suspended in the air – before she recovered, merely remarking, “I never heard you so passionate about it before. What happened?”

 

“I don’t know,” she said, and indeed she didn’t. Perhaps it was just the fact that it had been taken from her in the first place. Or the fact that Henry was so disheartened. “I just … I know I want it back.”

 

“There must be a reason.”

 

There was a knock on the door. Emma sighed, leaning briefly against the counter to give herself enough strength to face whoever it was. “Maybe … I just wanna beat her.”

 

“Good evening, Miss Swan,” Mr. Gold greeted, as she opened the door. “Sorry for the intrusion. There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”

 

She glanced over her shoulder at Mary Margaret, eyes wide and beseeching. Her roommate was of no help. “I’ll let you two talk!” she said, vacating the room as quickly as she possibly could.

 

“Come on in,” said Emma, waving the knife in the air.

 

“Thank you,” he said, as he did so, and she shut the door. “I, uh … I heard about what happened. Such an injustice.”

 

“Yeah, well, what’s done is done,” she said, setting down the knife and toaster.

 

“Spoken like a true fighter.”

 

“I don’t know what chance I have. She’s Mayor and I’m, well, me.” _“She can’_ _t_ _say anything about it_ _,”_ echoed in her head.

 

“Miss Swan, two people with a common goal can accomplish many things. Two people with a common enemy can accomplish even more. How would you like a benefactor?”

 

“A benefactor?”

 

“You mind?” he gestured to the table.

 

Emma shook her head, and they sat down.

 

“You know, it really is quite shocking how few people study the town charter.” He held up the binder he had brought with him, before setting it down on the table.

 

“The town charter?” Emma repeated, raising her eyebrows.

 

“Well, it’s quite comprehensive. And the Mayor’s authority?” Gold opened the charter, smiling a smile that made her uneasy.“Well, maybe she’s not quite as powerful as she seems.”

 

* * *

 

 

“How was school?” asked Emma, as she slid into the Granny’s booth next to Henry.

 

“Okay,” he replied, his gaze still trained on the newspaper he held.

 

“You’re reading that paper pretty hard.”

 

“Sidney wrote it.” He flipped the paper over, and handed it to her. Her face was on the front page, once again. _Ex-Jailbird – Emma Swan birthed babe behind bars._ “Is it a lie?”

“No.”

“I was born in jail?”

 

“Yes,” she set down the newspaper. “These records were supposed to be sealed. Tell me you’re not scarred for life.”

“I’m not. Well, not by this.”

Trying to ignore the second half of his statement, Emma folded up the newspaper. “Good. Then, let’s throw this out and we willget our news from something more reliable. Like the internet.”

“This is what I’ve been trying to tell you – good can’t beat evil, because good doesn’t do this kind of thing. My mom plays dirty – that’s why you can’t beat her. Ever.”

“I have a new ally. Mr. Gold said he’s going to help.”

“Mr. Gold? He’s even worse than she is. You already owe him one favour. You don’t want to owe him anymore. Don’t do this.”

 

“Hey Henry!” said Wendy brightly, sitting in the booth across from them. “Hi Emma!”

 

“Hi Wendy,” she smiled slightly. “I’ll … leave you two to it. See you later, kid.”

 

She paused just outside Granny’s, staring down at the newspaper she still held in her hands, before she set off towards the Mayor’s Office.

 

“This was a juvie record,” she said, as she entered the office, waving the paper. “This was sealed by court order. I don’t know how you got it, but that’s abuse of power and illegal.”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Regina replied, boredly. “You didn’t want people to know you cut his cord with a shiv?”

 

“I don’t care what people know, but this hurts Henry.” Surely Regina at least cared about how this affected him.

 

“He would’ve learned eventually. We all lose our heroes at some point.” She swung her handbag over her shoulder and began to walk out of the building. Emma was quick to follow.

 

“He doesn’t need to lose anything more. He’s depressed, Madam Mayor. He doesn’t have any … hope. Don’t you see that?”

 

“He’s fine.”

 

“He’s not fine!” Emma walked ahead as Regina switched off the lightand closed the door. “I mean, think about it. Watching his adoptive mother throw an illegal smear campaign against his birth mother? You don’t think that would be _upsetting_?”

 

“All I did was expose him to the truth.” They stopped. “And as for the legality – I did nothing wrong. But you and Sidney will have a chance to get into all that at the debate.”

 

Emma raised her eyebrows. “Debate?”

 

“Yes, Miss Swan, there’s a debate.” She walked ahead again, and Emma rolled her eyes before following. “You two can talk about jail time and juvie records and maybe even your new association with Mr. Gold. He’s a snake, Miss Swan. You need to be careful who you get into bed with.”

 

“I’m not getting into bed with anyone. I’m just fighting fire with—”

 

Regina opened the door, and they were faced with just that – fire. They were thrown back onto the staircase by the explosion. Emma clambered to her feet as quickly as possible, freeing Regina from the piece of metal that had crushed her ankle.

 

“Alright, come on – let’s go!” she climbed a stair above Regina, offering a hand to help her up. “We got to get out of here!”

 

“I can’t move! You have to get me out. Help me!”

 

Sheglanced up the stairs. It would be quicker to go and get help for Regina. But she’d locked the doors. She stepped pastRegina, who grabbed her arm.

 

“You’re going to leave me, aren’t you?”

 

Emma ignored her, breaking free of her grasp and leaping over the flames. As she’d hoped, there was a fire extinguisher on the wall, directingthe nozzle at the fire. She helped Regina up, and managed to support Regina on the way out, clearing their path.

 

They were immediately greeted by the flash of a camera and the sound of sirens. Emma let go of Regina, coughing.

 

“Oh, ow, ow! My ankle! Set me down gently!”

 

“Seriously?” asked Emma incredulously. “You’re complaining about _how_ I saved your life?”

 

“The firemen are here. It’s not like we were really in danger.”

 

“Fine. Next time I’ll just… I’ll just…” she turned back. “Oh, you know what? Next time, I’ll do the same thing. And the time after that. Because that is what decent human beings do. That’s what good people do.”

 

“Did you really rescue Regina?” asked Mary Margaret, as Emma approached the gaggle that had gathered; Mary Margaret, Ruby, Granny, Archie, and Killian and Wendy.

 

“She did!” Henry exclaimed, rushingto join them. “The fireman said it. They saw it.”

 

“You are a hero.”

 

“We should see if they have a picture of the rescue.”

 

“For posters!” Wendy added excitedly, from where she stood with Killian’s arm around her shoulders.

 

“Oh, people would love that!” Archie exclaimed. “That’s a great idea. Wait, so …”

 

The group walked away, discussing their ideas, leaving Emma and Henry relatively alone. Emma knelt before him. “This is how good wins. You do something good and people see it, and then they want to help you.”

 

“Maybe you’re right.”

 

She grinned. “You see, Henry? We don’t have to fight dirty.”

 

“Swan.”

 

She looked over. Killian stood with a twisted line ofcloth in his hand. It looked as though it had been picked from the debris.

 

“What is it?” she asked, standing to join him.

 

“When I went to Gold’s shop earlier today, he was working with something like this. Maybe even exactly this. Here – smell.”

 

She did, immediately drawing back at the stench. “What _is_ that?”

 

“Maybe you should ask Mr. Gold.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Loads of visitors today,” Mr. Gold remarked, wiping off his hands with a rag. He winced when Emma slammed the door behind her. “Do hope you’re not going to break my little bell.”

 

“You set the fire.”

 

“I’ve been right here, Miss Swan.”

 

She held out the rag. “Take a whiff. Smell familiar?”

 

“Your trust in Mr. Jones is … touching. But are you sure? There’s some construction working on at City Hall at the moment. There’s loads of flammable solvents used in construction.”

 

“Why did you do it?”

 

“‘If’ I did it,” he corrected, walking behind the counter. “If I did it, that would be because you cannot win without something big. Something like, uh … oh, I don’t know. Being the hero in a fire?”

 

“How could you even know I’d be there at the right time?”

 

“Maybe Regina’s not the only one with eyes and ears in this town. Or maybe … I’m just intuitive. Were I involved.”

 

“I could’ve run and left her there.”

 

“Not the type.”

 

“I can’t go along with this.”

 

“You just did,” he smiled. “This is just the price of election, Miss Swan.”

 

“A price I’m not willing to pay,” she threw the rag on the counter. “Find another sucker.”

 

“Okay, go ahead – expose me. But if you do, just think about what you’ll be exposing and what you’ll be walking away from.” She turned away, walking to the door. “Oh, yes. And, um … Who you might be disappointing.”

 

With a scathing look, she left.

 

* * *

 

 

Emmastood, leaning against the podium, feeling the all-encompassing dread settle in her stomach as the debate drew ever closer. She pulled the curtain across slightly. Henry, sitting in the front row, beamed at her, and Killian, further back, gave a thumbs up. She gave a smile in return to both of them, and let it fall along with the curtain. She took the flashcards and bottle of water offered to her by Mary Margaret with a soft sigh.

 

“I’m not going to win.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Mary Margaret inquired, adjusting her handbag strap. “Everyone’s talking about what you did in the fire.”

 

“No, Henry’s right; I can’t beat Regina at this. Not the way she fights. Watch and see.” She took a swig from her water bottle.

 

“Is this really just about beating Regina?” asked Mary Margaret softly.

 

“It’s just …” she pulled away the curtain once more.

 

“Henry,” said Mary Margaret, following her gaze.

 

“I want to show him that good can actually win.”

 

“That’s why you want to win it for him, but why do you want to win the election for yourself?”

 

“That is why. I want to show him that a hero can win. And if I’m not … if I’m not a hero and I’m not the saviour, then what part do I have in his life?”

 

Mary Margaret’s eyebrows shot up. Emma smiled.

 

“Okay. There it is.”

 

“There it is.”

 

Looking past Henry, she saw Mr. Gold enter at the back of the hall. Looking behind her, she saw that everyone else was ready. She sighed.

 

“Tragedy has brought us here, but we are faced with this decision. And now, we ask only that you listen with an open mind and to please vote your conscience. So, without further ado, I’d like to introduce you to the candidates – Sidney Glass and Emma Swan,” he gestured to each of them as he spoke their names. “Glass. Swan. Sounds like something that a decorator would make you buy,” he chuckled, but was met by stony silence from the audience. “Wow, crickets. Okay, uh … uh, Mr. Glass – your opening statement.”

 

Emma watched as Sidney approached the podium.

 

“I just want to say, that if elected, I want to serve as a reflection of the best qualities of Storybrooke. Honesty, neighbourliness, and strength. Thank you.”

 

He was met by polite applause, including from Archie, who then called upon her. “And Emma Swan.”

 

She walked to the podium, holding each side of it to steady herself. She had to tell the truth. It was the right thing to do. “You guys all know I have what they call a, uh … troubled past. But, you’ve been able to overlook it because of the, um … hero thing. But here’s the thing – the fire was a setup.”

 

The crowd began to murmur. She looked earnestly to them, raising her voice to be heard. “Mr. Gold agreed to support me in this race, but I didn’t know that that meant he was going to set a fire. I don’t have definitive evidence, but I’m sure. And the worst part of all this was – the worst part of all this is – I let you all think it was real. And I can’t win that way. I’m sorry.” She directed the last of her words to Henry.

 

Mr. Gold left, and Emma stepped away from the podium.

 

* * *

 

 

“Another?” asked Ruby, approaching Emma as she drained her drink. The bell of the door jangled as someone entered.

 

“Oh, hell yes.”

 

“I’ll have what she’s having.”

 

She looked to her right, where Killian, Wendy and Henry stood.

 

“Hey Henry,” she greeted. “Wendy. Killian.”

 

Henry reached into his bag, pulling out one of the walkie-talkies and placing it in Emma’s hand.

 

“What’s this for?” she asked.

 

“Operation Cobra,” Wendy smiled, sitting on the stool next to Henry. Killian sat on Emma’s left.

 

“You stood up to Mr. Gold,” Henry added. “It’s pretty amazing.”

 

“Not a lot of people with the spine for that,” said Killian.

 

“Well, he did something illegal.”

 

“That’s what heroes do – expose stuff like that.”

 

Ruby placed Emma and Killian’s drinks in front of them, along with a glass of milk each for Henry and Wendy. She smiled at them all.

 

“I should never have given up on Operation Cobra,” Henry whispered.

 

Emma smiled, biting her lip to keep it in check.

 

The bell rang again, and Regina strode into the diner, Sidney following.

 

“I thought I might find you here,” she said, surveying the four of them. “With a drink. And my son.

 

“Here to card me, officer?” Emma asked Sidney.

 

“Well, not at all,” he replied. “In fact, I think I’ll join you.”

 

“Here? I don’t know. I think they’re setting up a back room for the victory party.”

 

“Oh, well, you’ll have to tell me what that’s like.”

 

She raised her eyebrows.

 

Regina pulled out the badge, placing it on the counter. “Congratulations. Sheriff Swan.”

 

“Wait, what?” asked Henry.

 

Killian grinned. “Well, you hardly thought I’d vote for Glass, did you? No offence, mate.”

 

“None taken.”

 

“It was a very close vote,” said Regina, as the rest of the townspeople began to file into the diner, “but people really seem to like the idea of a Sheriff brave enough to stand up to Mr. Gold.”

 

“Are you joking?”

 

“She doesn’t joke,” said Sidney.

 

“You didn’t pick a great friend in Mr. Gold, Miss Swan, but he does make a superlative enemy. Enjoy that.”

 

* * *

 

Emma tossed her keys onto the desk in her new office. Her first morning as Sheriff. Looking up, she saw the box of Graham’s things still sat on her old desk. She walked toward it, taking off the lid and staring at the contents. She took out one of the boots and pulled the lace from it, pulling up the sleeve of her jacket to knot it around her wrist.

 

“Knew you’d want something.”

 

She started, glancing over her shoulder at Killian, who held two disposable cups of coffee and a pastry bag. “This gonna be a regular thing? Because I’m not complaining.”

 

She started, glancing over her shoulder at Killian, who held two disposable cups of coffee and a pastry bag. “This gonna be a regular thing? Because I’m not complaining.” She crossed the room, hanging Graham’s jacket on the hatstand.

 

“I just wanted to congratulate you.”

 

“And you couldn’t have done that at the party?” she frowned, accepting the coffee and bear claw nonetheless.

 

He shrugged, nodding towards the hatstand. “Wanted to see if I was right, too.”

 

“You were, happy?”

 

His eyes flickered to her new bracelet. The way she had decided to honour Graham’s memory; to carry him with her.

 

He smiled faintly. “Yes.”


	6. Chapter Six

* * *

“Hey,” Wendy greeted, smiling when she caught up to Henry outside the school. “Are we still going to Dark Star?”

 

Henry nodded. “I wanna check out the comic books.”

 

“Do you wanna come with me to Granny’s after? I’m meeting Killian; you might get a milkshake out of it.”

 

His mouth twisted into some sort of a grimace. “Mom’s expecting me home. Doesn’t want me to see Emma, I guess.”

 

“She can’t keep you separated,” said Wendy reasonably. “Not forever, at least.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Whatcha reading?”

 

Wendy looked up to see that Henry had been approached by Ava Zimmer. She frowned, unsure if she could trust the girl. She was a kind person, but could turn hostile if too many questions were asked about her and her brother. A defence mechanism, Wendy supposed.

 

“The Hulk Vs Wolverine,” Henry replied.

 

“I’m Ava,” she said, as Wendy approached. “I think I’ve seen you around school. You’re in Miss Blanchard’s class, right? Oh, hey, Wendy.”

 

“Hi,” Wendy smiled.

 

“You two know each other?” Henry frowned.

 

“Yeah. How are you? Where’sNicholas?”

 

He answered her question himself by appearing beside his sister. “Almost ready, Ava?”

 

“This is my brother, Nicholas,” Ava explained to Henry.

 

“Hi. Come on – let’s go.”

 

“You want to come hang out?” Ava suggested, glancing between Henry and Wendy.

 

Henry was quick to agree. “Sure!”

 

Wendy shrugged. “Okay. We need to go to the diner first, though …”

 

They made for the exit, but were cutoff abruptly by a hand on the door.

 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Mr. Clark sneezed, and pointed at Henry with the handkerchief he fished from his pocket. “Open up your bag.”

 

“What?”

 

“Don’t think I didn’t see you rob me. Open your bag. You too.”

 

“I didn’t take anything,” Henry insisted. Wendy begrudgingly took her own bag from her back and gave it to Mr. Clark.

 

He found nothing in her bag, but pulled a fistful of candy bars from Henry’s. “And a liar, too.”

 

He turned to Ava, stare accusatory. “That’s why you were talking to me. So your brother could put that stuff in there.”

 

“Wendy …” he sniffed, begrudging adding, “I don’t have any proof. But Henry… I’m shocked. And you two – just who do you think you are?”

 

“Ava Zimmer,” said Ava, glancing down. “And my brother, Nicholas.”

 

“I’m ringing all of your parents.” Mr. Clark ushered them over to the counter. “Numbers.”

 

They all gave them, and waited while Mr. Clark rang the numbers they'd provided.

 

“Why’d you do it?” Wendy asked quietly, trying to keep her voice non-judgemental. Ava ignored her, holding her head high. Nicholas, however, stared at his shoes.

 

“This is disconnected,” said Mr. Clark, holding the phone as if it were a weapon. “That’s it; I’m calling the Sheriff.”

 

Regina entered the shop not long after, immediately asking, “What is this nonsense?”

 

“Well, I’m sorry, Madam Mayor, but your son was shoplifting.”

 

“Were you?”

 

Henry shook his head.

 

“He wasn’t, Madam Mayor,” Wendy added.

 

“Look for yourself.”

 

She surveyed the goods laid out on the counter. “My son doesn’t eat candy. And he knows better than to steal. It was obviously those three. We’re going.”

 

They made to leave, but Emma entered. She frowned at the sight that greeted her, eyes flickering from Henry to Wendy, Ava and Nicholas.

 

“Henry. What happened?”

 

“Miss Swan, must I remind you that genetics mean nothing? You’re not his mother and it’s all taken care of.”

 

Emmastood with one hand on a hip, staring Regina down. “I’m here because I’m the Sheriff.”

 

“Oh, that’s right. Go on – do your job. Take care of those miscreants.”

 

“Wendy?” asked Emma, confusion evident on her face. “You weren’t stealing, were you?”

 

“No,” said Wendy, immediately. “Mr. Clark, you know I wasn’t.”

 

He sneezed, and nodded, thoughit looked as though he was reluctant to do so. “Her bag was empty.”

 

“Okay. Did you call their parents?”

 

“Uh, I didn’t get a chance to call Mr. Jones, but the number these two gave me was disconnected.”

 

“Did you guys give Mr. Clark a fake number?”

 

The twins shook their heads.

 

“Then why’s it disconnected?”

 

“‘Cause our parents couldn’t pay the bill,” said Ava.

 

Emma picked up the toothpaste, staring from it to the twins. “And you guys are just trying to help out, huh?”

 

Ava nodded. “Please – please don’t arrest us. It will just make things worse for our parents.”

 

Emma nodded. “All right. I’ll take care of this, Mr. Clark. How much is this stuff?”

 

“Uh …” he scanned all of the items. “$20.49.”

 

Emma paid, and handed the goods to Ava and Nicholas. “C’mon. I’ll take you guys home.”

 

“Can you ring my papa?” asked Wendy, as they exited the shop. “I was supposed to meet him at the diner.”

 

“Sure thing,” said Emma, opening the door of her cruiser and allowing the twins to climb into the backseat. “What’s the number?”

 

Once they were all settled into the car – Ava and Nicholas in the back, Wendy in the passenger seat – Emma rang the number Wendy had given her.

 

“Hey – Killian. Yeah, she’s right here. She’s fine. There was just a bit of a mix-up at the Dark Star. I’ll drop her home to you, all right? Great.”

 

She pocketed her phone, shot a reassuring smile to Wendy, and started the engine. She looked back to Ava and Nicholas. “You guys got an address, or is that disconnected too? Oh, c’mon, that was funny! Back me up here, Wendy.”

 

Ava offered a weak smile, before citing the address.

 

“This it?” asked Emma, when they pulled up at their apparent destination. Ava nodded, and Emma took off her seatbelt. She opened the door, but paused when the girl spoke, looking back at her.

 

“Please, no. If our parents see you, they’ll be so embarrassed.”

 

She shut the door again, leaning back to talk to them. Wendy glanced over her shoulder, too. “Did Henry tell you about my superpower?”

 

Ava exchanged a look with her brother, and then shook her head. “We … just met him.”

 

“I have the ability to tell when anyone is lying. Tell me the truth – money problems aside, is everything okay at home?”

 

“Yeah, we’re great. Can we go?”

 

“All right.”

 

“Bye, Wendy,” said Nicholas. “Tell Henry we’re sorry.”

 

Emma waited a beat after they had left, before she said. “They were lying. Do you know anything about them?”

 

“Ava gets tetchy if anyone asks too many questions,” Wendy offered. “Nicholas stays quiet most of the time – like he’s scared he’ll say something he shouldn’t.”

 

“Hmm …” Emma drove down the street a little, before parking again. “Wait here, okay? I’ll be back in a minute. I’ve just got to make sure they’re all right.”

 

When Emma returned, Ava and Nicholas were with her. They climbed into the back again, sitting in stony silence. Emma rang Killian once again.

 

“Change of plans,” she declared to him. “Can you come to the loft? Okay, see you then.”

 

The silence of the car ride was contrasted by Mary Margaret when they reached the apartment. She asked cheerful questions, and gave them a bowl of pasta each before moving away to discuss with Emma. Nicholas seemed content to just sit and eat, but Ava slid carefully from her chair.

 

“I don’t think they want you to hear what they’re saying,” said Wendy quietly.

 

“All the more reason to know what it is.”

 

“I’ll get it,” said Wendy, in response to a knock at the door. Ava had turned at the sound, with tears in her eyes. “It’s probably my dad anyway.”

 

“Hey,” Killian said, smiling as he saw her, though there was worry in his eyes. He stepped into the apartment. “What happened?”

 

“I’ll let Emma tell you, I think.”

 

“Hi,” said Emma, approaching him. “I hope you weren’t worried about Wendy.”

 

He glanced at his adoptive daughter, talking with the other two at the table. “She’s spent longer in the library in her time. Likes the books.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Have you ever seen those two before?” asked Mary Margaret, with the minutest of nods toward the twins.

 

“A couple of times, yeah. Why?”

 

“They’re on their own,” said Emma, with a sigh, showing him their file. “Mother died a few years ago. No sign of the father. They’ve been stealing to get by.”

 

Killian clucked his tongue sympathetically. “What are you going to do?”

 

“I’m going to look for their father,” said Emma, closing the file on the twins, determination in her green eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

“Everything all right?” asked Killian, as Mary Margaret hung up the phone.

 

She smiled, thought he could see that it didn’t reach her eyes. It was for the benefit of the children, he supposed. “Yeah. Could you go outside and talk to Emma, though? I’ll stay here and make sure nobody sets fire to my apartment.”

 

Four voices of dissent made Killian smile, and he nodded, slipping from the loft.

 

“Let me guess,” he said, approaching Emma, who looked a little disheartened. “He doesn’t want to take responsibility?”

 

“Nope,” she sighed.

 

“And you don’t want to tell them?”

 

“I can’t. Because all I’ll be telling them is that the false hope I gave them is exactly that.”

 

“The truth can be painful, we all know that. But it can also be cathartic.”

 

“I agree with the painful part,” she muttered.

 

“You told Henry about his father, and he’s handling it well.”

 

“I didn’t tell him the truth,” she admitted.

 

“You didn’t.”

 

She shook her head, expression hardening at the mention of the man. Perhaps it was for the best. “Henry’s father was no hero and trust me – he does not need to know the real story. Maybe we can hide the kids. Just until we can find a family for them. Someone to take care of them.”

 

“I’m sure Mary Margaret would be delighted with the idea of hiding two twelve-year-old kids in her loft.”

 

Emma huffed. “You have a better idea?”

 

“Maybe—”

 

He trailed off. Emma turned to follow his gaze, and saw Regina approaching them. “Sheriff. Shouldn’t you be on the interstate?”

 

Emma frowned. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Seeing to it that you do your job.”

 

“You know, you don’t have to check up on me. I know what I have to do.”

 

“Really? Because those kids are supposed to be in Boston tonight.”

 

She nodded, defeated. “I’ll go get them.”

 

“Send Henry down,” Regina added.

 

She stood with Henry, and Killian with Wendy, as Emma opened the back door of her squad car, gesturing for the twins to climb in.

 

“Come on,” she said, dejected. “It’s going to be … here,” she held out the compass to a teary-eyed Ava, who took it, avoiding her gaze. “I’m sorry, but we got to go.”

 

“Let’s go, Henry,” said Regina, placing a hand on her son’s shoulder. He shrugged it off and ran to the squad car.

 

“No, you can’t take them!” he exclaimed to Emma. “They can’t leave Storybrooke, Emma! They can’t. Something bad will happen.”

 

The Sheriff mumbled something intelligible in return, and drove off. Regina took Henry’s arm and left.

 

With the squad car out of sight, Wendy turned to throw her arms around Killian’s neck. He hugged her back, confused though he was.

 

“What was that for?”

 

“I’m glad I have you. That … that didn’t happen to me.”

 

He smiled into her hair. “Me too.”


	7. Chapter Seven

 

* * *

Emma frowned at the TV screen, munching on her cereal as the weather played. It looked like it wasn’t going to be a great day. She sighed. Sheriff’s duties expanded to making sure people were prepared for and safe from the storm.

 

She looked up, one eyebrow quirked, setting the bowl on the counter. Mary Margaret rushed out of the bathroom, toothbrush in her mouth. She pulled on her shoes as quickly as possible, setting the brush on the counter with a clatter and spitting into the sink.

 

“I can’t believe I overslept,” she lamented, checking her watch briefly.

 

Emma glanced at the clock to verify that the time hadn’t run away without her noticing. “It’s only seven ten. You’ve got plenty of time to get to school.”

 

“No, I have to be there at seven fifteen – science fair,” she insisted, pulling on her hat, draping her scarf haphazardly around her throat, and grabbing her bag. “I’m helping the kids with their project before school.”

 

Had she told her roommate about her superpower? She couldn’t quite recall. Not that the lie wasn’t blatant all on its own. Suspecting it had something to do with David, she decided to play along. “I’m sure if you’re five minutes late they’ll live.”

 

Mary Margaret shook her head, rushing out the door. “We’re making a volcano.”

 

“Okay,” said Emma, to the empty apartment. She finished her breakfast, shut off the TV, and left the house. Walking towards Granny’s, she saw Mary Margaret there, talking to David. She sighed, taking the back entrance instead.

 

“This is making a volcano?” she asked, approaching her roommate’s table.

 

“I was—”

 

“I get it,” Emma cut her off, wanting her to know that she was forgiven, and understood.

 

“He comes here every morning at seven fifteen AM to get coffee,” said Mary Margaret, tearing her gaze on the pavement where the car had been.

 

“For him and his _wife_ ,” Emma reminded her gently.

 

“I know, I know, I know. I just like to … come here to see him.”

 

Emma, endeavouring to lighten the mood somewhat, asked. “So you’re a stalker?”

 

“No, not really … maybe a little bit. I mean, it’s not like I’m following him. I just know that he spends his mornings with Kathryn, gets coffee, then drives to the animal shelter to start work at seven thirty and then he’s home around five.”

 

“Oh, is that all?”

 

“Thursdays they pick up Chinese for dinner,” she added quickly. Another sigh. “I can’t get him out of my head.”

 

“I know. Maybe the first step is not showing up here tomorrow.”

 

“Love’s the worst. I wish there was a magic cure.”

 

“So do we all,” said Emma, patting her hand.

 

“What about you?” Mary Margaret asked, evidently desperate for a change of subject.

 

Emma raised her eyebrows. “What about me?”

 

“Killian? You two seemed to work well together. You think maybe—?”

 

She shook her head. “Oh – no. No.”

 

Mary Margaret cocked her head to the side. “Why not? He’s a nice guy, not hard on the eyes—”

 

“Ooh!” Ruby appeared like a moth drawn to a flame. “Who are we talking about?”

 

“No one,” said Emma, sternly. Ruby pouted.

 

“Killian,” Mary Margaret whispered. The traitor.

 

“To be honest, I would’ve climbed that boy like a tree, if he wasn’t …”

 

“If he wasn’t what?” Emma asked, almost wincing when Ruby grinned wolfishly.

 

“If he wasn’t hung up on you, Princess.”

 

“No. Nuh-uh.”

 

“Belle!” Ruby called suddenly. The librarian looked up from the _Daily Mirror_ , frowning as Ruby beckoned her to the table. She came over, however. Emma sighed heavily, barely resisting the urge to bang her head off the table.

 

“You know Killian well, right?” Ruby asked.

 

“Um … yeah.”

 

“Wouldn’t you say he’s quite _fond_ of our Sheriff here?”

 

Emma was mercifully saved from her mortification when her phone chirped with a message from the station. With a loud and firm, “Good _bye_ ,” she fled the diner.

 

The message turned out to be a ‘friendly’ reminder from the Mayoral Office of her duties as Sheriff during the storm. She stared (or rather glared) at the message that cited one of those duties as speaking to the people who worked at the docks about the risk of flooding.

 

She really did bang her head against the desk.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey,” Emma smiled to the man at the fish stall. “Aiden, right? I’m Emma Swan. I’m supposed to talk to you about flood risks?”

 

To her surprise (though, if Ruby was to be believed, she shouldn’t have been surprised at all), he smiled brightly back. “Sheriff Swan! I’ve heard a lot about you!”

 

“Yeah, I caused quite the splash, apparently. Crashing into the sign and running for Sheriff and … actually, a lot happened since I got here. Huh.”

 

Aiden laughed. “I don’t think there’s a flooding risk for the town. We’re going to shut up shop now, anyway. Killian’s just – did you want to speak with him, too?”

 

“A second opinion wouldn’t hurt,” she said, after a pause, deciding that avoiding him would likely make things worse. Aiden nodded.

 

“Killian! Sheriff wants to talk to you!”

 

His head appeared around the open door of a nearby van, where he was loading up unsold fish. “Swan! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

 

Murmuring her thanks to Aiden, she moved over to where Killian stood.

 

“Turns out that being Sheriff entails more than I thought,” she remarked. “Including making sure that we’re safe from the almighty rage of the sea,” she made a hand gesture that implied a huge wave. Or she thought it did, anyway. “Not exactly sure how I’m supposed to do that, but … here I am.”

 

Killian smiled. “You’re supposed to get the expert opinions of the people who work here. We’ve seen much worse storms; we’re fine.”

 

“Okay, great.”

 

“You’re still here,” said Killian, a minor hint of teasing in his voice.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Any ideas as to why?”

 

She did. The idea had been in her mind ever since he himself had broached the topic; _“Looks like_ you _could use a deputy.”_ And then Mary Margaret had said they worked well together …

 

“I wanted to ask if you’d like to be my deputy.”

 

He blinked. “Deputy?”

 

“Yeah,” Emma nodded. “It’s been kind of quiet at the station since …” she glanced at the bootlace on her wrist, and swallowed. “And I figured I could use some help. And you were. A help, I mean. With the Zimmer twins.”

 

“You found their father. You convinced him to take them.”

 

“Still.”

 

“Emma, I have a job. My employer is right there, in fact.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “A job you complain about daily.”

 

“How do you—? Ah, of course. Wendy.”

 

Emma smiled. “She’s a good kid. She worries too much about you, is all.”

 

“We worry for each other,” Killian explained. “After her parents—”

 

“I get it,” said Emma, some distant part of her mind reminding her that she’d said the same to Mary Margaret earlier that day. “Believe me, I get it. The foster system is _not_ a nice place.”

 

“I promised I’d look after her.”

 

“And her seeing you unhappy isn’t going to help,” she pointed out. “Look, I’m not trying to force you into anything, but I’m sure that this would be better for you than selling fish,” she glanced over her shoulder in sudden fear that the man had overheard their conversation, and quickly added. “No offence to Aiden, he seems like a good guy. So … think about it, okay?”

 

“I will,” he inclined his head. “You have my word.”

 

“Good. See you around, then, Jones.”

 

“And you, Swan.”

 

* * *

 

 

Regina approached the squad car as Emma loaded supplies into it. She turned to face the mayor. “If you’re looking to blame me for the storm, I think you’re taking things a bit far now.

 

“I need you to look into something, Sheriff. Someone’s in town – someone new.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” she replied, placing a bag in the boot of the car. “I gave him directions to Granny’s the other night.”

 

“You talked to him? What’d he say?”

 

“He asked for directions,” she replied, frowning. “What’s the big deal? Who is he?”

 

“I don’t know. I asked around, but no one seems to know anything. There’s something about him. Something familiar.”

 

“He must be one of the untold millions you cursed,” she smirked.

 

Regina didn’t appear to be in a joking mood, however. “What?”

 

“Oh, you know. The curse. Henry’s whole thing.”

 

“Sheriff, I need you to find out who he is, what he wants and what he’s doing here.”

 

“You know, as hard as you tried to find one in my case, there is no law against visiting Storybrooke.”

 

“This isn’t about the law, Miss Swan. You’re going to do this because I asked you to. And because you’ll see it’s the right thing to do.”

 

“And why is that?” she challenged, closing the boot and resting a hand on it.

 

“Because he was in front of my house. Taking a particular interest in the one thing we both care about – Henry.”

 

Emma stiffened. If this guy was interested in Henry, then maybe she _should_ find out more about him. “I’ll look into him.”

 

* * *

 

 

It wasn’t until later in the day when she found an opportunity to do so. She stepped into Granny’s – a welcome refuge from the storm – shaking the rain from her coat (hey, if it worked for dogs). She glanced over at one of the occupied booths, and noticed the stranger sitting there. Sighing, and pulling off her hat, she approached.

 

“We need to talk.”

 

He didn’t turn his head. “Why?”

 

“Because …” she walked around the table to face him. “You’re suspicious.”

 

“Sitting here, out in the open,” he gestured around him, “drinking coffee. I wonder what kind of hell I would’ve raised had I ordered a donut.”

 

She narrowed her eyes at him, unamused, as Regina had been when she’d joked earlier. “You were talking to Henry.”

 

“You mean the little kid who came up to me asking me questions? Is that unusual for him? Being curious and precocious?”

 

She kept her gaze even. “What were you doing outside his house?”

 

“My bike broke down. It happens.”

 

“Your mysterious box,” her eyes flickered to it, “what’s in it?”

 

“It’s awfully frustrating not knowing, isn’t it?”

 

“Just tell me.”

 

“Why? Is it illegal to carry around a box in these parts?”

 

“No, of course it’s not.”

 

“You really want to know what’s inside it, don’t you?”

 

“No.”

 

He raised an eyebrow.

 

“Well, maybe,” she conceded, sitting across from the man.

 

“I’m going to make you wait. You’re going to have to wait a long time and watch me carry it around. Hauling it to strange and mysterious places. And with each passing moment, the mystery will become more tantalizing. Your imagination will inflame, but so will your frustration. Never knowing – only guessing – what could possibly be inside that box?”

 

She raised her eyebrow in the universal ‘ _are you serious right now?_ ’ expression.

 

“Or,” he leaned across the table. “You could let me buy you a drink sometime and I’ll tell you right now.”

 

“You want to buy me a drink?”

 

“Yes.” He sounded as if her were agreeing battle terms, not asking her out.

 

“Okay. A drink it is.”

 

He took the box from underneath the booth, setting it on the table and unlocking it.

 

“Really?” she asked, glancing from the aged typewriter to him.

 

“I’m a writer.”

 

“That’s why you’re here?”

 

“I find this place provides …” he tapped the box with a finger, “inspiration. Don’t you?” He locked the box once more, standing to leave.

 

“Wait. Have you been here before?”

 

“I didn’t say that,” he shook his head, throwing some money on the table to pay for his coffee.

 

“What about that drink?” she called after him, as he headed towards the entrance to the B&B.

 

“I said sometime.”

 

“Creep,” she muttered. “Coffee please, Ruby.”

 

“Who was that?” asked Killian, sitting in the seat that the stranger had just vacated, shaking rain from his hair.

 

“He wouldn’t tell me his name. Regina said he was talking to Henry this morning.”

 

“Small towns are usually distrustful,” said Killian, pausing to order a muffin. Ruby smirked at Emma as she passed. “You should remember that.”

 

“I think that was mainly Regina.”

 

“And look who has you checking up on this guy?”

 

Emma sighed. “Okay, fair point. But … I don’t want him around Henry until I at least know his name.”

 

“I get it. Just, don’t turn me into a sniffer dog.”

 

She raised her eyebrows.

 

“If I accept your offer. _If._ ”

 

“Okay,” she bit her lip to hide her smile, not even glaring at Ruby as she brought their orders.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was warring with myself about whether Ruby and Mary Margaret would actually do that, and decided that they probably would. It was fun to write, in any case.


	8. Chapter Eight

* * *

Emma smiled at Henry’s reflection in her squad car mirror. She opened the door, climbing out to greet him. “Hey, kid.”

 

He cycled past without acknowledging her.

 

“Nice to see you, too,” she laughed, following after him.

 

“The storm!” Henry exclaimed, dismayed, jumping off his bike and surveying the damage that had befallen his castle

 

“It’s okay – we can fix it,” Emma assured. “I’ll talk to Marco.”

 

“Do you think it’s still here?” he asked, setting his helmet on the ground and digging in the sand.

 

“What are you looking for?”

 

“My book.”

 

“Why’d you bury it here?”

 

“So my mom doesn’t find it.”

 

“Hiding it under your mattress wasn’t good enough?”

 

Henry’s digging paid off, as he uncovered a red metal box, taking the padlock off it. “That’s the first place the Evil Queen would look.”

 

“How about leaving it with me?” she suggested.

 

“That’s the second place,” said Henry, lifting the lid and revealing the book safe inside. “It’s still here. Good.”

 

“Hey, why don’t you give the book to Wendy? She’s part of Operation Cobra, isn’t she?”

 

“That’s a great idea!” Henry beamed, closing the box.

 

“So, your mom doesn’t know about the castle?”

 

“No,” he turned to her, before focusing his attention on reburying the book. “This is our secret.”

 

“Henry!”

 

They both turned to see Regina approaching them. Henry frantically threw sand on top of the box, standing on dusting off his hands.

 

“Henry! I’ve been looking everywhere for you. You know you have a session with Archie this morning.” She turned to Emma, dislike clear on her features. “I should’ve known he was with you. Henry – car. Now.”

 

Henry did as he was told, running off.

 

Regina glanced at the ruined playground. “You let him play here?”

 

“The storm hit it hard, but we can fix it.”

 

“Well, can you fix a cracked cranium? Because that’s what you’ll have on your hands if one of these boards collapses under his weight.”

 

She rolled her eyes.

 

“You’re not thinking about Henry or his safety. Just ways around me. Miss Swan, don’t let your feelings cloud your judgment. People can get hurt.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she frowned.

 

“You’re the Sheriff now – it’s time to be responsible.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

Emma settled into her seat at the city council meeting. She took a deep, steadying, breath. She could do this.

 

When Sidney had approached her, drunk and evidently upset, she’d scoffed. But then Regina had torn down Henry’s castle; had destroyed the thing he loved most. Then she’d cut the brakes on the squad car.

 

She had to be exposed. Emma had to do what was right, even if it was the wrong way to do it.

 

“This session of the Storybrooke city council will come to order,” Regina announced, banging her gavel. “We will begin by reading the minutes from our last meeting.”

 

Sidney stood. “Uh, excuse me, um, Madam Mayor. I have something I’d like to bring to the council’s attention.”

 

“This is not an open forum, Sidney,” said Regina, fixing her venom-like stare on him. “And no one on this council’s interested in hearing the boozy complaints of a disgraced reporter. Now sit down.”

 

Another deep breath, and Emma stood, too, taking the binder from Sidney. “He’s not the only one who has something to say.”

 

“Miss Swan, this meeting is to discuss issues facing Storybrooke.”

 

“Like the Mayor stealing thousands of dollars from the city to build herself a second home?” she challenged, glare icy.

 

Titters and gasps rose from the audience. Regina banged the gavel again. “Miss Swan, you will sit down immediately or so help me—”

 

“What? You’ll punish me? You’ll bully me like everyone else in this town? No. Not today.” She turned back to the crowd, taking out the blueprints she and Sidney had found. “In my hand, I am holding documents proving that this woman, your mayor, stole funds from the city to build herself a lavish home in the woods.”

 

More commotion answered this statement. She gestured to Sidney. “And this ‘disgraced reporter’ – you want to know why he was really fired? Because he stood up to her. Because he questioned her. And we all know what happens to people who question the Mayor.” She turned back to face the front, to face Regina. “You claim that you act in the best interest of all of us, but that isn’t the truth, is it? The truth is, you are a thug that doesn’t care about anyone, or anything, but yourself. That is who you really are. And it is time for the people of Storybrooke to know that.”

 

“You are right, Miss Swan. I am building a house.” She stood from her chair, removing a remote from her pocket. “A playhouse.”

 

With a flick of the remote, plans for a playground appeared on the screen behind her. The audience gasped. Emma glanced at the floor. She’d been wrong.

 

“The accusations are true – I did take city funds. I wanted to build a playground so my son, Henry, and all the children of Storybrooke, could have a special place to play. Safely.” Emma glanced up. “As for the sketch in your hands, it was inspired by a drawing I found in one of my son’s books. So, there you have it, Miss Swan. You’ve exposed me for who I really am. I hope you’re satisfied.”

 

Swallowing, and wishing very much that she could disappear. She sat down.

 

* * *

 

 

“Well, that was a disaster,” Emma muttered, as she and Sidney hurried to the car. Mr. Gold blocked their way, eyes focused on Regina.

 

“Look at her – queen of the castle. You know, what you did in there was commendable, Miss Swan. But if you really want to bring her down, you’re going to need a strong ally.”

 

“Like yourself? Thanks, but I’m not going to make that mistake again.”

 

“Oh, one can wish.”

 

“Miss Swan. A word?” Regina paused, glaring pointedly at Sidney. “Alone.”

 

“I don’t know what you were hoping to accomplish in there. But now, I hope you’ll go back to your job. Which is upholding the law – not breaking it. You don’t think I know you broke into my office?”

 

“Don’t pretend like you’re so innocent. I know you messed with the brakes on my car.”

 

“Your brakes? Are you delusional? Why would I kill you when you just saw I had nothing to hide?”

 

“Nothing I can prove,” she muttered.

 

“Well, until you have something more substantial than disdain to throw my way, you’re going to stay away from me. And, more importantly, from Henry.”

 

“But that’s—”

 

“Not open for discussion. You’ve lost the high ground, Sheriff. If I wanted to, there’s not a judge in the world that would deny me a restraining order after what you’ve done. You don’t get to see my son unless I say so. And right now? I don’t say so.”

 

“That was something of a display back there.”

 

She sighed, turning to face Killian. “Don’t start. I’ve had enough for one day.”

 

“Quite the contrary. I’m here to accept your offer.”

 

She raised her eyebrows. It took a moment for her to remember what the offer had been. “Really?”

 

He nodded. “I talked to Wendy and – well, she wouldn’t let me say no.”

 

“Smart kid.”

 

“Don’t I know it.”

 

Emma smiled, fighting back the sickening feeling that she’d lost Henry again. “All right. Let’s get you to the station.”

 

“Sounds ominous,” he joked.

 

“Shut up.”

 

* * *

 

 

“So,” said Emma, conversationally, as she searched through her filing cabinet. “That accent. Where does it come from?”

 

“Well, believe it or not, but I didn’t always live here.”

 

“Shocker.”

 

He smiled. “I know. Originally, I was from Armagh.”

 

“That's not an Irish accent.”

 

“Quite observant, Swan, aren’t you?”

 

She shot him a look, locating his file and tossing it onto her desk. Killian Jones. No previous convictions. Hers was a little more interesting, (and she still strongly maintained that crashing into the city sign should not have been counted as a conviction), with the ‘DEPUTY’ stamp, and the ‘SHERRIF’ one just below it.

 

“No. I spent much of my life in London.”

 

“London?” Emma raised an eyebrow, stamping the file to indicate that Killian was now Deputy. “Why did you move here?”

 

“Wendy,” he answered simply.

 

She nodded, eyes sympathetic. “Makes sense. What happened to her parents? I never asked …”

 

“I met them at a very low point in my life. Right after I lost my hand, actually. I owe my life to them, and—” he gestured towards the hatstand, with his prosthetic hand, ironically — “Graham, of course. We became close, and then they moved here to start a family. Then I got a call to tell me that they’d died in a car crash, and that they’d wanted me to be Wendy’s guardian if ever something happened to them. Funny how we all ended up living here, actually.”

 

“You moved all the way out here for Wendy?”

 

“Is that so surprising? Look at you. Not too long ago you were in Boston.”

 

“Touché.”

 

“So, have I passed your screening test?” asked Killian, approaching her.

 

“This wasn’t a screening test,” she replied, returning the file to the cabinet beside her desk. “I just thought I should get to know you better, if I’m gonna be your boss.”

 

“It’s official, then?”

 

Reaching into her desk drawer, she located the deputy badge and held it out to him. “Yup.”

 

With a grin, he pinned the badge to his belt.

 

“Welcome aboard, Deputy Jones.”

 

* * *

 

 

Still sour about what had happened to the squad car – at least Tillman would fix it at a discount, after what she’d done for the twins – Emma drove the bug to the playground. Henry spotted her, waving. She returned the gesture.

 

He pulled out his walkie talkie, asking, “ _Why are you so far away? Come out here!_ ”

 

“Sorry, kid. I can’t today.”

 

“ _You’re undercover, aren’t you? For Operation Cobra?_ ”

 

“No, Henry. I’m not undercover. Your mom – she doesn’t want us seeing each other for a while.”

 

“ _You don’t have to listen to her_ ,” he insisted.

 

“Actually, this time, I do. I screwed up, Henry. I got mad at your mom about you and the castle and everything and … well, we’re just going to have to be apart for a little while.”

 

“ _I don’t want to be apart_.”

 

“Neither do I. But, right now, we have to. Don’t worry – I’ll find a way back in. I’m going to give my walkie-talkie to Killian, okay? You and Wendy can talk Cobra stuff, and you can give me messages. It won’t be so bad.”

 

Henry looked glum. “ _I hope so_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not particularly fond of this chapter, for reasons that I'm not entirely sure of, but I couldn't skip 'Fruit of the Poisonous Tree'. The reason that the book wasn't taken will become clear in the next chapter, but of course for the narrative to progress (especially with the way s4 is going), August does need to take it. Wendy just didn't want to tell Henry because he trusted her to take care of the book, but he will find out when he discovers Pinocchio's story's been added. I hope that makes sense.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually quite proud of this chapter, in contrast to the last one. 'Skin Deep' has a lot of changes to it, what with Belle free. Namely, there's no kidnapping and beating up of Moe. Rumple knows that Regina was lying (which we'll see in a couple chapter's time. Yes, the flashbacks are finally making a return), and that he isn't responsible for Belle's 'death'.
> 
> Spot the shameless reference. I'm not the slightest bit sorry.
> 
> I'm also taking slight liberties with the range of walkie-talkies, but humour me, okay?

 

* * *

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you to school?” asked Killian, for what must have been the fiftieth time that morning. It was his first day as Deputy, and he was nervous (rightfully so, she supposed), especially about the extra hours it required.

 

This time, Wendy didn’t even dignify the question with a response. She put the plate she’d been eating her breakfast on in the sink, swung her schoolbag over her shoulder, and pressed a kiss to her guardian’s cheek. “Good _bye_ ,Papa.”

 

She thought she caught a smile on his face as he called after her to be careful.

 

She enjoyed the walk to school, and she was sure that Killian knew that. He was worried that his new job would affect their relationship; that he wouldn’t be able to spend enough time with her. That was it. She shook her head. His old job had made him unhappy. If being the Deputy made him smile more, then that was all that mattered.

 

She rounded a corner.

 

“Wait! No! Tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day. It’s the biggest day of … I’ve got a grand in roses in the back! Stop! You've got to let me sell them!”

 

Wendy frowned, clutching at the straps of her schoolbag as she watched the florist argue with Mr. Gold, and a man she assumed worked for him. It didn’t appear to work, as Mr. Gold’s employee drove away in the ‘Game of Thorns’ van, and Mr. Gold walked away, leaving Moe French standing alone.

 

She stood transfixed for a moment, before she turned on her heel and ran. She didn’t slow until she reached the library, where she stood, gasping for breath, in front of a confused and concerned Belle French.

 

“Wendy!” she exclaimed, rushing to the girl’s side. “What are you doing here? You should be in school!”

 

“Mr. Gold …” she paused to take a deep, steadying breath. “Mr. Gold took your dad’s van.”

 

Belle’s jaw clenched, blue eyes suddenly hardening into crystals. She managed to smile, however. “You didn’t need to run over here and tell me, but thank you. I’ll walk you to school, and explain to Miss Blanchard.”

 

“Thanks,” Wendy returned the smile (though she was sure hers was much warmer), as the librarian wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

 

“What are you going to do?” she asked, to break the silence that had fallen over them, as they walked down Main Street.

 

“I am going to have a word with Mr. Gold.”

 

“Be careful. He’s scary.”

 

Belle laughed. “Yes, he is. But I think I can handle myself,” she glanced down at Wendy, bending her head as if sharing a secret. “I can be scary too.”

 

The girl cocked her head to the side, expression thoughtful. “I think everybody’s got a scary side, if you push them far enough. Like when Graham died. Papa was so angry.”

 

Belle clucked her tongue sympathetically. “It’s part of the grieving process. He didn’t scare you, did he?”

 

Wendy shook her head. “No. At first, a little. But I knew he was just upset.”

 

She nodded. “Graham was a good man.”

 

They reached the school, which seemed strangely empty with nobody in the hallway. Belle rapped lightly on the door to Mary Margaret Blanchard’s classroom, opening it and poking her head in.

 

“Miss Blanchard? Can I talk to you for a second?”

 

Mary Margaret nodding, giving a command to her students before leaving the classroom.

 

“Good morning, Belle, Wendy,” she looked confused.

 

“Wendy was with me,” Belle explained. “She saw a … disagreement between my father and Mr. Gold on her way over here, and came to tell me. It’s my fault she’s late.”

 

Mary Margaret smiled. “Well, that’s perfectly all right. Why don’t you go on in, Wendy? We were just getting started.”

 

With a smile to Belle, Wendy ducked past her teacher, and entered the classroom. Belle raised her eyebrows at Mary Margaret.

 

“What are you going to do?” she asked. “About Mr. Gold?”

 

Belle sighed. It was no secret that she disliked the pawnbroker who owned the town. It appeared that she couldn’t be trusted to keep a level head when arguing her case, she supposed. “I’ll offer some money to subsidise the van he took. Dad needs the flowers to pay the loan. It’s not rocket science.”

 

Mary Margaret smiled. “Be careful, okay? You wouldn’t want him to take the library from you.”

 

Belle grimaced at the thought. The schoolteacher laughed.

 

“I should get back to them. Good luck.”

 

She nodded, turning away from the classroom, and the school.

 

* * *

  

Mr. Gold didn’t even look up when Belle entered the pawn shop that she usually avoided at all costs. She stood, arms folded, in front of the counter, until he acknowledged her presence.

 

“Miss French,” he greeted. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

 

She shot him a stony look. He smiled.

 

“If this is about your father, collateral is a part of every loan.”

 

“It’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow!” Belle exclaimed, almost wincing when she realised that this was _not_ keeping a level head. “The biggest day of the year for flower sales!” she paused to shoot him a condescending look. “Not that _you’d_ know anything about that. Those flowers _are_ your money!” She took the money she’d brought with her from the pocket of her jacket, placing it on the counter. “There’s $300. Return the van, and you’ll have the rest of your money by next week at the latest. If not, my rent for the library next month will be _mysteriously_ low. I think you’ll find that fair.”

 

With one last determined look – her bright blue eyes ablaze – she left the shop, the bell on the door jangling loudly as she did so.

 

* * *

  

“Hey David,” smiled Emma, as she approached her roommate’s table at Granny’s. She was a little reluctant to leave Killian alone at the station on his first day, but he’d insisted that she should meet Mary Margaret for lunch.

 

“Hey,” he replied, looking up from the book he was reading; _Anna_ _Karenina._

 

“Mary Margaret,” she added, sitting down and stealing a French fry from the plate on the table. “So, how’s your day going?”

 

“Henry’s fine.”

 

“That’s not what I asked you,” said Emma, with a small smile. “You sure?”

 

“Really,” Mary Margaret assured her, leaning across the table. “He’s his normal self. Regina won’t keep you separated forever. When people are supposed to be together, they find a way.” She glanced over at David.

 

“Yeah,” murmured Emma, taking another fry. “So, he’s his normal self. He’s fine, he’s happy?”

 

“Yes.”

 

She looked at her friend, her superpower telling her that she was lying.

 

“No! He misses you! A lot. Trust me – I’m with him like, six hours a day.”

 

“Six hours?”

 

The two of them glanced up in surprise to see Ashley handing Alexandra to Granny.

 

“You take new-borns? ‘Cause I’d _love_ six hours off.”

 

“Ashley! I didn’t – I didn’t even recognise you!”

 

“Baby on the outside?” she suggested, picking up a chair from the neighbouring table and sitting between them.

 

“How’s it going?” asked Emma.

 

“It’s – it’s – I mean, baby’s great. But, we really haven’t had any time to do the whole getting married thing. So that’s been rough. And Sean’s been working double shifts at the cannery.”

 

“Well, he has to work,” Mary Margaret pointed out.

 

“On Valentine’s Day? Yeah. He couldn’t get out of it.”

 

“I’m sorry; that sucks.”

 

“It doesn’t have to,” said Ruby, passing a takeaway cup of coffee to Ashley. “Come out with me! Let’s have a girls’ night. We can all go. Mary Margaret. I’ll call Belle. Emma, too – if you leave the badge at home.”

 

“I’m not really in the party mood, but you guys can all go and have fun.”

 

Mary Margaret shot her a look, and she shot one right back.

 

Ruby, beaming, rushing back to work.

 

Emma’s phone buzzed. Frowning, she picked it up.

 

“What’s that?” Mary Margaret inquired.

 

“It’s the station. Something’s up.”

 

She left the diner, quickly dialling Killian’s number.

 

“ _Somebody broke into Gold’s house,_ ” he told her. “ _Neighbour_ _noticed the front door open and called it in. You’re at Granny’s, right?_ ”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“ _Stay there._ ”

 

Moments later, the patrol car – with mercifully working brakes – pulled up beside her. She climbed in.

 

“First break-in, huh?”

 

“I’m sure it’ll be very exciting.”

 

* * *

  

Her father was nowhere to be seen when Belle entered the shop. She picked a red rose from the display, sniffing it. She smiled. Roses had always been her favourite flower. She’d paid them special attention when she worked at ‘Game of Thorns’ after school. She replaced the rose in the display as she saw her father emerge from the back of the shop.

 

“Hi Dad.”

 

“Belle!” Moe exclaimed, wrapping her into a tight hug. “What are you doing here?”

 

“I heard what happened with Mr. Gold. Are you okay?”

 

Her father nodded, but his expression was strange. Belle frowned at him. “Are you sure?”

 

“Regina. She – uh – she saw what happened with Mr. Gold. She came into the shop, and …” he shook his head, “I don’t know how, but she convinced me that I had – had to settle the score.”

 

Belle narrowed her eyes. The Mayor could be very persuasive when she wanted to be, but it never boded well. “You _stole_ from Gold?”

 

“Just a few trinkets,” Moe attempted to explain. “Nothing he’d miss, surely.”

 

“You’d be surprised,” she replied. “Where are they now?”

 

“At my house. Except …” he paused, face becoming troubled. “Regina wanted one of them. I don’t know why – it’s just a teacup.”

 

Belle shook her head. “This can’t be good. Stay here, or go home and wait there. I’ll find Regina; figure out what’s going on.” She kissed his cheek. “Love you, Dad.”

 

He smiled. “I love you too, my girl.”

 

* * *

 

“Mom?” Henry called, wandering into the living room. Regina had promised that he could see Emma today, if he behaved. He hadn’t mentioned the book – and he’d hidden it as best he could in his room; he’d return it to Wendy tomorrow – or the curse, and he’d done all his homework. Surely that was enough?

 

“Mom?” he tried again. She was nowhere to be found, but her handbag was lying on the sofa. He’d check and see if her cell phone was there. If it wasn’t, he could try ringing her.

 

He frowned as he came across a chipped teacup. What was that doing there?

 

“Henry?”

 

He jumped, standing up and trying to act nonchalant.

 

“There you are,” his mother smiled. “I have to go out. Will you be all right here on your own?”

 

He nodded, trying to act as though he wasn’t shaking.

 

“I’m sorry you didn’t get a chance to see Miss Swan today. Tomorrow, okay?”

 

“Thanks, Mom.”

 

* * *

  

Belle sighed as she applied lipstick. Multi-tasking was not exactly her forte, but she had promised Ruby she would be there for the girls’ night out at The Rabbit Hole, and she had to sort out the mess involving Mr. Gold, Regina and her father. She would try the Mayor’s house first.

 

She was saved the trouble when she spotted Regina walking along Main Street. Drawing her coat more tightly around her, she crossed the street.

 

“Miss French,” the Mayor smiled her usual fake smile. “Something the matter?”

 

“Madam Mayor,” she regarded coldly. “I believe you have something that belonged to my father, for a short period of time.”

 

Her smile became even wider, if that were possible. “It will be returned to its rightful owner, be assured.”

 

“I’m not assured. I’d much rather return it myself. My father deeply regrets what he was somehow persuaded to do. I don’t think that message would get across if you were the one to return it. So.” She held a hand out, smile still in place. Regina’s own didn’t falter. She leaned closer.

 

“Did you know, Miss French, that there is a ward in the hospital for people who _push too far_?”

 

She ignored the chill that rushed through her spine at the thinly-veiled threat. “Need I remind you, Madam Mayor, that I am very good friends with our new Deputy? I’m sure that my sudden and unexplainable disappearance would be of great concern to him and the Sheriff. And of course Wendy and Henry would be positively _devastated._ ”

 

Regina’s eyes were cold and deadly, but she took a teacup from the handbag on her shoulder, placing it in Belle’s still-outstretched hand.

 

The Mayor cocked her head to the side, as if gauging Belle’s reaction. “A strange little trinket, isn’t it?”

 

“I’m sure it has some value,” she replied, running her thumb absent-mindedly across the chip in the delicate china.

 

“It’s just a cup. A damaged one, at that.”

 

Belle shook her head. “Whatever it is, it obviously holds value to Mr. Gold.”

 

Regina’s smile returned. “Careful, dear.”

 

Before Belle could ask what it was she had to be careful of, the Mayor left, and she stood alone with a chipped cup in her hands.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Wendy,” Killian smiled at the girl, sitting on the end of her bed. “Should’ve known you wouldn’t be asleep.”

 

His adoptive daughter smiled back at him. “Couldn’t sleep. I did try. Even read a book –” she held up her worn copy of _Peter Pan_ – “but it didn’t work … can _you_ tell me a story?”

 

“How about the pirate and the princess this time, huh?”

 

She quirked an eyebrow. “‘This time’? You tell that one every time.”

 

“Do you want a story or not?”

 

“Okay, I’m listening. One hundred percent focused.” She leaned back against her pillows.

 

Killian smiled. “All right. Once upon a time …”

 

* * *

  

The ‘Game of Thorns’ van was in her father’s driveway when Belle pulled up. She smiled to herself. At least that had been returned.

 

She knocked on the front door, frowning when it swung open. She clutched the teacup tightly in one hand, creeping into the house.

 

Her father was sitting at the kitchen table, with Mr. Gold standing by the sink.

 

“What are you doing here?” she asked the pawnbroker. He didn’t answer, his gaze transfixed on the cup in her grasp. She blinked. What was so special about a _teacup_?

 

She held Itout. “If this is what you came for, take it and go.”

 

He accepted the trinket, almost cradling it close to his chest.

 

“Leave,” she repeated. “Before I call Sheriff Swan.”

 

He opened his mouth, as though to say something, before closing it again, and leaving the house, the thuds of his cane growing quieter as he left.

 

“Are you okay?” Belle asked her father. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

 

Moe shook his head. “No. He was just … speaking nonsense.”

 

“I said I’d meet Ruby at the Rabbit Hole, but I’ll come back and check on you before I go home, okay?”

 

He was silent, and Belle kissed his cheek before she left. Good thing she was going to girls’ night. She needed a drink.

 

* * *

 

 

Henry lay on his bed, _Once Upon a Time_ open in front of him. He found the story he had been looking for.

 

_She listened to his commands as she prepared the tea, nodding along._

 

_"Oh! And you will skin the children I hunt for their pelts."_

 

_The teacup she had been holding fell from her grasp with a dull thud._

 

_"That one was a quip. Not serious."_

 

_Belle almost laughed in relief. "Right."_ _She bent down to pick up the fallen cup, grimacing when she saw that she had damaged it. “_ _I, uh … I’_ _m so sorry, but, uh,_ _it’s … it’s chipped.”_ _She held it up, adding, “Y-you can hardly see it.”_

_She feared the_ _Beast’s wrath, after breaking one_ _of his possessions, but all he said was, “Well, it’_ _s just a cup.”_

_She almost laughed in relief, standing and placing the cup on the table._

That was definitely the cup he had found in his Mom’sbag, but he was certain that he’d seen it somewhere else other than the story book. He flipped back through the pages, screwing his eyes shut in an effort to concentrate.

 

_“What’s that?”_

_“I’m afraid it’s not for sale.”_

Mr. Gold’s shop! He nearly exclaimed it aloud, his eyes flying open as he scrambled for the walkie-talkie he’d hidden under his bed.

 

“Wendy!” he hissed as loudly as he dared, careful not to speak so loudly that he would alert his Mom. “Wendy!”

 

A crackle. Wendy yawned, glancing around her bedroom blearily. Killian had fallen asleep on her bed. She whispered into the walkie-talkie, careful not to wake him. “Henry? It’s past midnight, what’s wrong?”

 

“ _I figured out who the Beast is!_ ”

 

She sat up a little straighter, blinking sleep out of her eyes. “You did? Who is it?”

 

Henry paused. “ _I can’t tell you yet. Meet me at Granny’s tomorrow, okay?_ ”

 

“Okay,” she said. “See you tomorrow.”

 

“ _Night, Wendy._ ”

 

She switched off the walkie-talkie, reaching over to shake her guardian. “Papa?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“You fell asleep in here. Do you want to go to your room?”

 

“No.”

 

She laughed. Killian was certainly not a morning person. Or a late-night person. “Okay.”

 

 

“Hey, Papa?”

 

“What?”

 

“Can we go to Granny’s for breakfast tomorrow?”

 

The only response was a light snore. Wendy smiled, settling down to sleep again.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An almost-completely original chapter! And a return to the flashbacks! I'm kinda proud of myself. This chapter does a lot of jumping back and forth, between present-day Storybrooke, the Enchanted Forest and Wendy's cursed memories, so I put headers on each change

 

* * *

 “So,” said Wendy, sitting in the booth across from Henry. “Spill.”

He raised an eyebrow, sipping his hot chocolate. “Spill? Spill what? I’m not spilling my cocoa.”  He drew it into his chest protectively.

“Tell me what you found out,” she elaborated, biting her lip to keep from laughing. She glanced around; Killian was standing at the counter, ordering for them. She lowered her voice. “About The Beast. Who he was?”   


“Oh!” Henry lowered his cup, excitedly removing  _Once Upon a Time _ from his bag. He flipped through it, searching for the correct story. “It was the chipped cup that did it. I remembered seeing it here.”

“You did? Where?”   


“Mr. Gold’s shop.”

“Mr—” she began incredulously, before realising that she had risen her voice. “I thought he was Rumplestiltskin,” she hissed.   


“He is.”

“He can’t be both.”

Henry shrugged. “He is,” he repeated.

“But Belle  _hates _ Mr. Gold,” said Wendy, slumping in her seat.

“That’s the curse.” Henry slid the book over to Wendy to take for safekeeping. “It’s keeping them apart.”   


“But what can we do? Mr. Gold’s  _scary_.”   


“But Belle likes us,” Henry reminded her, the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “We can work with that.”

“And what about Mary Margaret and David?”

The small smile disappeared. “I don’t know … I guess we could keep looking for Frederick?”

“Yeah,” said Wendy, as Killian joined them.

“What are we talking about?” he asked, smiling at them both.   


“Nothing,” Henry replied, picking up his hot chocolate again. “Just Cobra stuff.”

“I thought I was a part of Operation Cobra,” he replied, pouting exaggeratedly at them.

Wendy smiled, patting his arm consolingly. “You are.”

* * *

 

_ Five Years Ago. Storybrooke, Maine. _

She knew that Killian meant well; that he was trying to do the best thing for her after her parents had died. But she just couldn’t deal with him living in her house, occupying the space that had once belonged to the people she loved most in the world.

So she ran.

She went to the library, deciding that no one would look for her there. It was almost comforting, to lean against the shelves, breathing in the smell of the books.

That was, until she was discovered.

The woman – she must have been the librarian – was kind-faced and pretty, with her long curly brown hair and bright blue eyes. She knelt in front of Wendy.

“Hi,” she murmured.

“Hi,” Wendy mumbled in return.

“I’m Belle. What’s your name?”

“Wendy.”

“What are you doing in here, Wendy?” she asked, but her voice was not judgemental.

“I like books.”

Belle’s eyes lit up, as if this was a magic key to any conversation. “Really? What’s your favourite book?”

“ _Winnie the Pooh_.”   


“I love that book,” Belle smiled. “But my favourite book is  _Pride and Prejudice_. ”   


“Can I read it?”

“When you’re older,” the woman promised. “It might be a bit too difficult for you to understand right now.”

She said nothing.

“Are you hiding, Wendy?”

Timidly, she nodded. Belle cocked her head to the side. “Why?”

“My Mom and Dad are dead,” Wendy whispered. “And I don’t like Killian.”

“Well, if it weren’t for him, you’d have to go into care. Do you know what that is?”

She shook her head.

“It’s where they put you in with a bunch of other kids whose parents are gone, and you wait until you find a family who wants you. See, with Killian, you don’t have to wait. He’s already here.”   


“And …” Wendy’s voice was uncertain. “He wants me?”

“I’m sure he does,” Belle assured her. “He came from England, didn’t he?”

She nodded.

“That’s an awfully long way to come,” she smiled. “Why don’t I take you home? I’m sure he’s worried about you.”   


“Okay.”

Killian hugged her when Belle brought her home, and gave her a necklace.

“Do you know what that is?” he asked. She shook her head. “It’s fairy dust. Magic. And it will always keep you safe.”

“Promise?”   


“I promise.”

* * *

_ Present Day. Storybrooke, Maine. _

Wendy beamed as she sat across from Belle in the latter’s kitchen. She had finished  _Peter Pan_  earlier that day, and had already phoned Killian to let him know where she was.  It was a Friday, so she could spend the night.

Belle placed a mug of hot cocoa and a plate of biscuits on the table, before sitting down. “Okay, tell me everything.”

Wendy launched into her analysis of the book – how strange but exciting it was to share her name with the main character; her general mistrust of Peter Pan; her thoughts on the Lost Boys. Belle listened intently, adding her own thoughts and comments.

 

They had operated this way for years – Belle encouraging Wendy to read a new book and share her thoughts on it. She did the same with Henry, Wendy knew. Rarely did the three of them meet together, however. Henry read different books than Wendy did, and it would be pointless to discuss two different novels at the same time. She was glad that Henry wasn’t with her, if she was honest. He might have said something about Mr. Gold that would make Belle suspicious.   


“Can I read  _Pride and Prejudice _ ?” asked Wendy, suddenly remembering a  five-year-old promise.   


Belle’s expression was thoughtful. “How about you try  _Little Women_ , and if you like that, then you can read it.”

Wendy gave a catty grin. “Scared I won’t like your favourite book?”   


“Terrified.”

* * *

_ Twenty-eight years ago. The  Enchanted Forest. _

“Hi … you must be Belle.”   


“The Queen sent you, didn’t she?” she asked, resigned to her fate. “She wants you to kill me.”   


“I’m not here to kill you, love. I’m here to rescue you.”

Belle blinked at the man as he unlocked her shackles, unsure whether she should trust him or not.  “Rescue me? Who are you?”   


“A friend,” he replied. “We haven’t much time.  Go down the stairs. A girl called Wendy is waiting for you there. Do as she says; she’ll get you out.”

“And what of you?”

He grimaced. “I have to talk with the Queen. Maintain cover. She’s going to come, and when she does, I’m going to pretend to knock you out. Go along with it, okay?”

Belle nodded urgently. He raised an arm, which ended in a hook, and struck her. The pain stung, but she would pay that price for freedom. She fell back, squeezing her eyes shut.

“So pretty … ” the man seemed to muse, his voice suddenly darker than it had been when he spoke to her. “Yet so useless.”   


“No, not useless,” Regina corrected. Belle kept still, despite the involuntary shudder that the queen’s voice sent through her. She had tortured her, after all.  “She’s a valuable chess piece.”

 

“Do I look like I’m playing a game of chess? My hook, if you please.”   


“No.”

“The asking was me being a gentleman.”

“Is that any way to address a queen? Even a pirate should have better manners than that. Yes … I know who you are … Captain. I know why you came here from Neverland. And I know all about the crocodile you wish to skin. ”   


“Then you also know that I’ll stop at nothing.”

“So dedicated and resourceful. No one has been able to fight their way past my defences before. She can’t help you kill Rumplestiltskin, Hook. But I can, if you do something for me. Care to join me for a drink?”   


They left the tower. Belle waited two minutes – judging by the amount of breaths she took – before sitting up. She picked up the cloak the pirate had used to disguise himself and wrapped it around her shoulders. She crept, as silently as possible, to the foot of the stairs. Could she really trust him if he wanted to kill Rumplestiltskin? Or was that just him maintaining his cover, as he’d said he had to?

“Hey!” a whispered shout beckoned her. A girl – no older than thirteen, by Belle’s estimation – emerged from the shadows. She looked the part of the pirate, too, in a frockcoat, long leather boots,  and a cutlass attached to her hip.   


“Are you Wendy?”   


 

The pirate girl nodde d frantically. “We need to go. Our ship is docked at the port. It’s not far, on foot. Killian will meet us there.”

They crept along the passageway, Wendy pointing out the booby traps that needed to be avoided.   


“Why are you doing this?”

“Killian is an old enemy of Rumplestiltskin’s. He murdered the woman he loved. We figured if he saved the woman  _Rumplestiltskin_  loves, he’d be in our debt.”

“And he doesn’t like to be in debt,” Belle nodded. “Clever. But I doubt he loves me anymore. He threw me out.”   


“Love doesn’t just die like that. Killian sought revenge for three hundred years.”

Belle raised her eyebrows.  That explained why he’d wanted to kill Rumple.  “And he’s given it up?”

Wendy shrugged. “More or less.”

They reached the end of the passageway, climbing out into the forest. Belle closed her eyes against the sun, taking deep breaths of fresh air.

“I’ve lost track of how long I spent in that place.”

Wendy smiled at her. “You’re free now.”

Belle hugged the girl, surprising her. She returned the embrace nonetheless.

“Sorry – I just – it’s been so long. And I didn’t – I couldn’t let myself believe that I would actually be free. But now I am. Thank you.”   


“You’re welcome. Come on, wait ‘til you see  _The J_ _ olly _ !”   


They continued on their way, this time trekking through the forest.

“Is Killian your father?” asked Belle.

Wendy shook her head.  “A common misconception. We let people believe it, though. Why else would he take care of me?”

 

“It’s good of him to.”

Wendy smiled. “Yeah, it is.”

 

“There she is,” Wendy beamed proudly at the ship, when they reached the dock.  “ _T_ _he Jolly Roger _ .”

 

Belle smiled. “She’s beautiful.”   


Wendy helped her onto the ship, and showed her to the cabin where she would stay until she figured out what she wanted to do.

“Does she know that the Dark One is imprisoned?” asked Smee, when Wendy joined him above deck.   


“No,” she sighed. “I thought we’d let her get over the trauma of her own imprisonment first.”

“How long ‘til the captain gets back?”

“Who knows? Depending on what Regina wants him to do, hours or days.”

“Stay docked, then? And when she discovers her missing prisoner?”

“Then, we fight.”

* * *

 

“Bad news,” Killian announced, as he appeared on board  _The Jolly_ _._ Wendy, standing at the ship’s wheel, barely made a start. She turned to face him.

“Because we don’t have  _enough_ of that?”   


He grinned at her, pulling her into a hug. “How long was I gone?”

She frowned into his shoulder. “You don’t know?”   


“I was sent to Wonderland. Time moves differently there.”

“Eight days.”

Worry overcame the captain’s face. “The queen mentioned nothing of her prisoner’s escape, upon my return.”   


Wendy smiled wryly. “Oh, she knows. She contacted us  – the mirror in your quarters. But she has decided to let it slide. Any ideas as to why?”

“That would be the bad news,” Killian sighed, breathing in a lungful of sea air as though to calm himself. “The queen has plans to enact a curse that will take us all to a new land. Your land, I believe.”

Wendy stared at him, her heart leaping despite herself. “I could go home?”   


He looked almost sad. “It’s not quite that simple. We will be stripped of our memories, and trapped  in one place. You’ll be no closer to your family than you are here.”

“But,” he added. “Regina offered us a life of … comfort. Provided I kill her mother.”   


“Provided you – what?”

“l didn’t, if that’s what you’re worried about. Though I should have – however bad Regina  is, Cora is worse. She may go back on her word on account of Belle. Though, if the curse is coming as soon as she Implied, Belle will be imprisoned once again soon enough. Where  _is_ our guest?”   


“In her cabin. Sleeping, I expect.”

“Has she learned of the crocodile’s fate?”

Wendy nodded. Killian mimicked the gesture. “And?”

“She wants to see him.”

“Fair enough.” He suddenly smiled. “Looks like we’re going to the castle.”

* * *

 

“Your majesty,”  Killian bowed to the queen who had agreed to hold an audience with them.  Wendy and Belle curtseyed.   


“Ladies. Captain Jones,” the woman inclined her head – still beautiful even in the very late stages of pregnancy. The fairest of them all, indeed. “I had thought you no more than a legend.”

He smiled. “I’m flattered. But here I stand, a mere man.”   


“Why have you sought me out?”

“The Dark One. I hear you keep him locked away. As you should. But, it appears that even the darkest of hearts can find light. Belle, here, is his true love.”

Snow White stared at the woman, shock evident on her features. “Yet his curse still holds?”

Belle cast her eyes to the floor, despondent. “He couldn’t accept that I loved him. He thought it was a ruse … something to do with the Evil Queen. He threw me out. The queen has held me prisoner ever since. A pawn to wield against Rumplestiltskin.”   


Snow smiled. “You speak his name, as well as the truth. What would you hope to accomplish in visiting him?”

“Regina had him believe that I was dead. If he can see the truth… perhaps he will turn against her. She needs his assistance to cast the curse. I know that much.”   


“She shared information with a prisoner?”   


Belle shook her head, blue eyes – usually so soft – suddenly hard, like crystals. “She tortured me whenever something went wrong in her plans.”   


Silence fell over the four of them like a stifling blanket. Snow stood from her throne  – a laborious effort – and wrapped her arms around Belle.

“I promise you, my Lady, that I will not rest until that evil witch has been defeated.” A frown overcame her beautiful features. “In this world or the next. Come, I will take you to Rumplestiltskin.”   


The journey  to the mines was spent in silence, until  Snow  broke it;  asking polite questions.  


“How did you meet?”

Wendy glanced at Killian, and then back to Snow White, smiling. “Neverland. He held a dagger to my throat.”   


The queen laughed. “And now you are as close as father and daughter. Well,  _I_  hit my husband in the face with a rock.”   


“An interesting meeting.” Killian cocked his head to the side, grinning. “Care to elaborate?”   


She told them the story of how Regina made her a fugitive; stealing from carriages to survive, and how she had met her prince.

“Oh,” she said, glancing out the carriage window. “We’re here.”   


An attendant helped her out of the carriage, with a bowed head and a respectful “your Majesty”. He did the same for Wendy and Belle, both of whom smiled at him.

“Stay back, and stay out of the light,” Snow ordered them, taking a torch from a bracket on the wall. “Rumplestiltskin,” she called out.

“Back again, dearie?” an eerie voice replied, and green-tinted fingers grasped the bars of the cage. “Oh, but it is not you who wishes to speak with me, is it?”

Snow held her head high. “No. It’s someone else. Someone you believed dead.”

Belle emerged from the shadows.  “ Hello, Rumple.”

He shrank back, his face contorting. “No! It’s a trick!” he pointed a finger at Snow White. Killian reached to touch her arm. She stood back. “You tricked me!”

“It’s me,” said Belle, her voice quiet, taking small steps towards the cage. “Regina tricked you, not Snow White.  She imprisoned me in her tower, told you I was dead.”

  
The formidable Dark One was cowered on the floor of his prison, hands over his ears, repeating “no” over and over again.  


“He’s  _mad_ ,” Wendy whispered.   


“That’s not a lie, lass,” Killian replied.

“Solitude would drive anyone mad,” Snow explained. “Imagine what it would do to a man who can see the future.”

Wendy shook her head. She could not allow herself to pity this man.

 

“We should leave them be,” said the queen, turning back towards the entrance of the mines. With one last  look behind her, Wendy followed, Killian after her.

“He must have mourned her,” said Killian, his voice thoughtful. He shrugged. “Seems like monsters can love after all.”

“Killian?” Belle called, after several long moments of silence. “Wendy?”   


With a worried glance at each other, they returned. Rumplestiltskin looked in a better state. He stood at the edge of his prison, one hand linked in Belle’s through the bars.   


“It appears,” he said, as if it physically pained him to speak the words. “That I owe a debt of gratitude to both of you.” His eyes still held intense dislike toward Killian. “That is, if you’ve given up your pursuit of revenge?”   


“Aye,” said Killian, though it looked like it took a huge effort to say. “Doesn’t mean that I trust you, Dark One.”

Rumplestiltskin gave an eerie giggle. “I don’t expect you to  _trust   _me, dearie. I expect you to honour a deal. I will owe a favour to both of you. Just the one. You don’t get one each. ”

“What’s the point in you promising us a favour if we’re going to end up cursed in a matter of weeks?” asked Wendy, one eyebrow raised. “Unless you can stop Regina from casting it.”

He tapped his forehead with his free hand. He could see the future, Snow had said. “Regina will cast the curse. I can’t stop her. But there will be a Saviour, who will break it.”

“Emma.”

They turned to see Snow standing behind them, a hand on her swollen abdomen. “My daughter, Emma. She’ll be the Saviour.”

Rumplestiltskin nodded. “And when the curse is broken, you can ask me for a favour. Choose wisely.” He giggled.

“Deal,” said Wendy. She glanced at Killian, and he nodded tersely.

“That concludes our business here,” he said. “Take as much time as you need, Belle. We’ll wait for you.”

“Thank you, Killian. For everything.”

“You’re welcome, my Lady.”

* * *

 

_ Five years ago. Storybrooke, Maine. _

“Can I have a book?”

Belle blinked, before a grin spread across her face. “Wendy! Of course you can. Why don’t we have a look through them?”

Wendy nodded, glad that the librarian hadn’t questioned her presence. “Does Killian know you’re here?” Granny had asked, when she’d tried the diner. They walked through the shelves, Belle pulling down books as they walked, telling Wendy about them. Eventually, she decided on  _Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland_.   


“It’s a magnificent book,” Belle smiled. “I hope you’ll like it.”

“I’ll tell you about it when I bring it back,” the girl promised, hugging the book close to her chest.

“Okay. See you then.”

“Goodbye.”

* * *

 

_ Present Day. Storybrooke, Maine. _

“Hey,” said Killian, smiling when Wendy launched herself into his arms. “Did you have a good time?”   


She nodded. “I’ve decided which book I’m going to read next.”

“Oh?” he raised an eyebrow. “Which one?”

“ _Great Expectations_.”   


“And what are your expectations of it?” he asked, taking her bag from her. She rolled her eyes.

“Thanks for having her,” Killian added, with a nod and a smile to Belle. She waved the spatula she was using to make eggs.

“It’s my pleasure. There aren’t many book lovers in Storybrooke.”

“True,” said Killian. He shared a conspiratory glance with Wendy. “But one day you’ll take over the town with all that knowledge.”

Belle laughed. “Maybe. If you and Emma don’t arrest us. ”

“With Henry and Wendy at the fore? Not likely.”

“Will you stay for breakfast?” asked the librarian, pausing her hand before she made them food they didn’t want.

“Why not?” Wendy shrugged. Killian set her bag down by the door.   


“How’s your dad doing?” asked Killian, as he and Wendy sat down.

“Okay. He was a little shaken up,  but he has his van back. How’s it going at the Sheriff’s station?”

Killian nodded. “Well. It’s a better job; better pay.”   


“And you like it,” Wendy added. “You smile more.”

“Well, selling fish is hardly the most glamorous of careers,” Belle gave an impish grin.

“Says someone who  _ate_  the fish.”   


“I still do,” she folded her arms. “Aiden relies on my custom, now you’ve up and left him.”   


Killian’s face fell. “He doesn’t think that, does he?”

“No,” she replied, softly, but firmly.  “He was the one who had to work with you, after all. He noticed that you were miserable.”

“I wasn’t  _ miserable _ .”   


“Yes you were,” said Wendy, at the same time as Belle said, “Fine. Unhappy, then.”

“Why did Graham never make you Deputy?” Wendy frowned, after Killian had finally conceded to the fact that he hadn’t exactly loved his job.

Killian stared guiltily at his eggs. “He asked. I said no.”

Wendy paused, fork suspended in the air. “ _Why _ ?”  


“I’d just moved here. You needed me, and if I’d worked longer hours, I wouldn’t have been around as much.”   


The anger and confusion melted from her face. She leaned over to kiss his cheek. She picked up her fork again, and shot a grin at her adoptive father. “I don’t need you now, is that it?”

“Less than you did then.  Plus, I know you had something to do with Emma asking me. ”

“Come back with proof,” Wendy muttered, focusing on her eggs.

Belle laughed.

* * *

“Belle?” Wendy called out, wandering the shelves as she searched for the librarian. She’d finished  _Great Expectations_ , and wanted to return it, and possibly cajole Belle into allowing her to read  _Pride and Prejudice_. Or at least  _Little Women_.   


“Up here!” Belle called, from the top of a ladder. She looked down. “Finished already?”   


Wendy smiled up at her. “Yup! Can I read  _Pride and Prejudice _ now?”  


Belle laughed softly. “Sure. I’ll give you my copy. There’s some good annotations, if I may say so myself.”

Wendy laughed too, placing a hand on the ladder so that Belle could descend safely.

“One second,” the librarian promised, rushing off to the desk to find the book. She glanced up at the sound of a cane against the floor.

“Mr. Gold,” she greeted stiffly, hugging the book to her chest like a shield. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been in her father’s house. “I suppose you’re here for the rent?”   


The corners of his mouth twitched upward as he took in his surroundings. “I do enjoy books, you know.” He took a step closer, his cane clacking loudly on the floor. Belle tightened her grip on the hardcover copy of  _ Pride and Prejudice _ . “But yes, I’ m here for the rent.”   


She nodded, turning her back on him as she walked to the safe, her heels making more noise than his cane had. The sound echoed through the empty library.

“There’s fifty dollars short.”  Belle extend ed a hand. He took the money. “ You ’ll have it next week.”   


  
“No need,” Mr. Gold smiled, his golden tooth glinting. It made Belle uneasy, but she merely raised her eyebrows. “Consider it an apology.”  


His brown eyes  _seemed _  sincere. She blinked.   


“Apology accepted.”

“Well,” said Wendy, as she emerged from the shelves after Gold had left, one eyebrow raised. “That was interesting.”

It took Belle, with her eyes still on the door, a moment to reply.

“Yeah … interesting.”   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like the Killian/Belle friendship. I was happy to see it on the show, and that Killian was apparently the best way to trick Belle. I hope to see more next season. They can bond over being the true loves of the Dark Ones. I hope that it was plausible that he would free Belle.


	11. Chapter Eleven

 

* * *

 

Killian frowned when Wendy rushed down the stairs, tying her hair as she went.

 

“I overslept,” she announced. “I’m so sorry!”

 

“We’ve plenty of time,” he assured his adoptive daughter.

 

Wendy frowned, though she slowed somewhat, reaching for a bowl and the box of cereal. “But … you have to get to work. And I’ll make you late!”

 

“No you won’t, Emma’s opening the station this morning. In fact, she specifically requested that I take you to school. I get the feeling she wants us to run into Henry.”

 

She smiled, relaxing. She looked thoughtful as she poured her cereal and joined him at the table, before finally announcing, “I have an idea!”

 

Killian was in the middle of a gulp of coffee when she made her declaration, but he nodded to her to continue.

 

“We should invite Henry over for dinner. He’s been pretty lonely lately, I’m sure he’d like to spend some time with a friend.”

 

“And?”

 

“And … you could just so happen to invite Emma over the same night?”

 

He smiled. “When did you turn into such an evil genius?”

 

She preened. “Probably when we started Operation Cobra. It’s not easy figuring out who everyone is, you know.”

 

“And yet you won’t tell me who I am.”

 

“You’re not in the book,” she replied nonchalantly. “Neither am I.”

 

“I wonder why that is,” he pondered.

 

“Maybe we were too boring to write about,” she joked.

 

"Hmm, well our _boring_ lives will be wracked by you being late for school if we don’t leave soon.”

 

Wendy laughed. “All right, all right, I’ll get my bag.”

 

They walked the short distance to Storybrooke Elementary School, chatting about their dinner plans, assuming they could successfully invite both Henry and Emma (Wendy cast her vote firmly on shepherd’s pie). Luckily enough, they found Henry being walked to the gate by Regina. Wendy practically bounded up to them.

 

“Madam Mayor!” she said, politely, since she couldn’t make the woman mad if she wanted Henry to be allowed visit for dinner. “I was wondering if maybe Henry could come over after school?” she glanced back at her adoptive father. “Papa already said it was fine.”

 

“It’d be a pleasure to have the lad,” Killian smiled.

 

Henry, for one who had been unaware of the plan, seemed delighted. Wendy had harboured a slight worry that he wouldn’t want to, but she was glad to see it proven wrong. He looked hopefully up at his mother.

 

“I suppose that’s all right,” she said, though her lips were pursed and her smile unconvincing. “I’ll come and pick him up at eight thirty.”

 

“Thanks, Mom.” Henry hugged her, which she returned, seeming taken aback by his display of affection. Wendy supposed that preventing him from seeing Emma hadn’t placed her in the ‘mother of the year’ category in his eyes.

 

“I’ll see you later,” said Wendy, hugging her own guardian, and whispering, “Talk to Emma,” into his ear, lest he had forgotten (unlikely, but she wasn’t prepared to take any chances.) He kissed the top of her head, and left for the Sheriff’s Station.

 

“Henry’s fine,” was his greeting to Emma, as he hung his jacket up on the coat stand (next to Graham’s, which was somehow impacting him less and less as time went on).

 

She looked extremely grateful as she caught his eye, leaving whatever file or report on her desk in favour of the conversation he offered. “Were you talking to him?”

 

“Wendy was. He seemed happy enough, I think it was about Operation Cobra or something like that.”

 

Emma pursed her lips. “Killian, I’m going to let you in on a little secret. I’m pretty good at knowing when someone is lying to me. You don’t need to spare my feelings, I’d rather the truth.”

 

He grimaced. “Apologies, Swan. I had intended for it to be a surprise for you both. Wendy had the genius to suggest we invite Henry to dinner, and then you.”

 

Her defensiveness when requesting that he tell the truth melted away. “You don’t have to do that for us.”

 

He chuckled. “Wendy’s been giving out about how miserable he is. If she can stop complaining, I’d be a lot happier.”

 

Emma frowned. “Giving out?”

 

He scratched behind his ear, a little sheepish. His accent was an odd mixture of phrases he’d picked up in Ireland, England, and the US. “An Irish phrase. Anyway, the point is, if I can do something that will make Wendy, Henry, _and_ my boss happy, then I’m damn well going to do it.”

 

“Technically, Regina is your boss.”

 

He tipped his head to the side. “While that may be true, I much prefer you to Regina.”

 

She laughed. “I’m flattered.”

 

“So does that mean you’ll join us?”

 

“Okay, what time?”

 

“Henry is coming back with Wendy after school, so if you wanted the most time with him, I would say then. But of course if you wanted to go home first of all, spend some time with Mary Margaret.”

 

Emma chuckled, casting him a glance. “I think she might be busy tonight. David is leaving his wife.”

 

Killian raised an eyebrow. “Really, this time?”

 

Her expression turned suddenly dark. “He’d better be, or Mary Margaret will be devastated, and I won’t be held accountable for what I’ll do to him.”

 

“Should I be worried? I’m rather fond of Dave.”

 

Emma shook her head. He supposed it could be seen as a good thing that she had become so attached to Mary Margaret.

 

“Any more developments I’ve missed?”

 

“Mm-hmm,” she nodded. “I ran into the stranger again. His name is August Booth, apparently. It sounds fake if you ask me. But I’m going for a drink with him, so I might find out more about him.”

 

Killian frowned. “You don’t trust him, but yet you’re going on a date?”

 

She sighed, looking at the files on her desk as if she would never return to them. “It was a deal, to get him to tell me about his stupid typewriter. But hey, if I can get him drunk maybe he’ll spill.” She wiggled her fingers. “Detective work.”

 

“I think there are a few promotions to go between Sheriff and Detective.”

 

“Less than from Deputy to Detective,” she quipped, and they finally abandoned their conversation in favour of actually working.

 

* * *

 

In the end, Killian and Emma arrived at the house before Wendy and Henry (an easy feat, as Emma drove and the children were walking). They had spent several minutes, while locking up the station, debating on whether they could risk travelling together lest Regina find out and know that Emma was spending time with Henry. As it was, it was unclear what they would do when the allotted time of half eight came around. They had driven the squad car, so it was plausible for it to be found outside of Killian’s house and because Emma had walked to work that day.

 

He gave Emma a quick tour of the house (consisting of their kitchen, living room, bathroom and three bedrooms, the third being used mainly as a storage unit) and gave her leave to make herself at home. She positioned herself on the sofa and was more than happy to channel surf until Henry and Wendy arrived. Killian made a start on dinner (Shepherd’s pie, not-so-subtly suggested by Wendy that morning), making sure to leave the door leading to the living room opened in case Emma wanted to make conversation, and just to ensure that she didn’t feel isolated in a new place.

 

He toed it closed when he heard movement outside the house, however, pressing a finger to his lips and dropping a wink to Emma. She evidently understood his meaning, muting the television.

 

“Hey, papa,” Wendy beamed as she entered, Henry trailing behind her a little uneasily.

 

“Thanks for inviting me over,” he said.

 

“The pleasure’s all mine, lad. Why don’t you go and watch some TV before dinner? Unless you have homework you need to do.”

 

He winked again, this time to Wendy over Henry’s head, which he was currently shaking to indicate that he had no homework. She turned to her fellow preteen. “I’m just going to go upstairs to leave my schoolbag in my room. You go on ahead in.”

 

Once Wendy had dashed up the stairs and Killian had turned back to dinner, now assembling the pie in a baking dish, Emma emerged from the living room, her sheepish look disappearing when Henry barrelled into her, wrapping his arms tightly around her middle. It was replaced by a twinge of shock, and finally settled into fondness as she carded her fingers through his hair. Henry turned to Killian in askance, but he merely shrugged a shoulder.

 

“It was Wendy’s idea.”

 

She was no less surprised than Emma when she emerged at the foot of the stairs to be hugged fiercely by Henry.

 

“Thank you,” he said simply. Wendy smiled understandingly, nodding her head once.

 

She then expressed intense interest in what Killian was doing, handing him ingredients and trying to sneak cheese into the dish. She was unperturbed when he swatted her hand away, however, merely popping the slices into her mouth instead. Her motive was clear – give Emma and Henry space to talk.

 

Over dinner Henry and Wendy’s conversation inevitably turned to Operation Cobra, leading to Wendy excusing herself from the table momentarily to retrieve the storybook. When she returned empty-handed, disappointment danced across Henry’s face, but he quickly hid it.

 

“I’m sure we’ll find it, kid,” said Emma brightly, nudging her son’s shoulder with her own. He nodded, smiling.

 

Wendy seemed less convinced, worrying her top lip between her teeth and picking at her food.

 

“It was there this morning,” she insisted, half to herself. Her appetite soon returned as she listened to Emma describe Boston.

 

“I’ve never left Storybrooke,” she said wistfully. Henry opened his mouth, likely to remind them that the curse supposedly kept them trapped, but shut it again. “I’d like to go to Ireland, someday. Killian said he’d show me where he’s from.”

 

Emma looked thoughtful, laying her fork down in favour of leaning her chin against her hands as she listened to Henry insist that Killian had not been born in Ireland but rather a fairytale land. She was an orphan, he knew – Granny’s was quite the gossip mill, and Sidney Glass’s articles were no better – and had never known where she came from. Excepting the fantastical notion of the curse and the other land that Henry preached, she would likely never learn.

 

“Can we watch a movie, Papa?” asked Wendy, once they had finished eating. “If you want to?” she directed this to Henry, who nodded his agreement.

 

“As long as it’s a short one,” Killian replied. There wasn’t enough time for three-hour epics. “Henry has to go home at half eight.”

 

Wendy nodded eagerly, thanking him with a smile before leading Henry into the living room. A few minutes into the title, Killian realised that it was a Disney film, and fought the urge to laugh.

 

Instead, he offered Emma a drink.

 

“Thanks for this,” she told him, voice sincere, as he handed her a glass.

 

“Believe me, love. It’s a win-win situation.”

 

“I just mean that Regina would be pretty pissed if she found out, and there’s not many people who’d take that risk.”

 

Killian merely smiled, clinking their glasses together when she offered. “It’s my pleasure. Both being in your presence and doing whatever Regina doesn’t want.”

 

Emma left at eight, after joining the movie-watching party to spend more time with Henry. She walked home, leaving the squad car to Killian. Regina arrived half an hour later, true to her word, refusing the offer to come inside. Henry thanked Killian for his hospitality, arranged to meet Wendy at the school the following morning, and left with his adoptive mother.

 

“I think that went well,” Wendy beamed.

 

* * *

 

Mary Margaret was in a good mood the following morning, though she refused to divulge anything to Emma. In fact, she was much more interested in hearing about Emma’s ‘date’.

 

She halted her coffee drinking in order to roll her eyes and hiss, “For the last time, it was not a date. Wendy and Henry were there!”

 

“Mhmm, but didn’t you say that you had drinks together while they were in the other room. That qualifies as alone, and drinks qualify as a date.”

 

Apparently satisfied, she leaned back from the table.

 

“You should probably be more interested in the meeting I have today that has actually been labelled as a date,” said Emma, eventually.

 

“August?” asked Mary Margaret. Emma nodded. “Ah, but that’s different, you’re investigating him.”

 

Emma threw her hands up in surrender. “I’ve got to go to work. Good luck with David.”

 

Mary Margaret tipped her mug in a salute.

 

When she left the station for her lunch break, Killian wished her luck on her date, and she laughed.

 

* * *

 

August wasn’t waiting for her at the diner when she arrived, which annoyed her somewhat. She had work to do; he didn’t need to be anywhere else. She ventured back outside when she heard the engine of his motorcycle “You going to come in?” she called. “I thought you wanted that drink.”

 

“I do, but I didn’t say here. Hop on.”

 

Emma balked. “You want me to get on the back of that bike?”

 

He merely looked amused. “That’s what ‘hop on’ means.”

 

“How about if we go somewhere, I drive?”

 

“How about you stop having to control everything and take a leap of faith?” She sighed, as he continued. “You owe me a drink. Hop on. I know a good watering hole.”

 

“If you don’t, I will,” Granny commented. Emma glanced back to her, and eventually accepted the helmet August held out to her, climbing onto the back of the bike.

 

She had to laugh when they reached their destination, taking off her helmet and walking towards the well. “A watering hole? Literally?”

 

“Well, say what you want about me, I always tell the truth.”

 

“I just thought a drink was, like, wine or whiskey.”

 

August smiled. “What, do you want me to get you drunk?”

 

 “No.”

 

“Next time.”

 

“You are optimistic,” she mused, remembering that he had told her he was ‘optimistic’ about their date.

 

He brought two metallic mugs from his bike, approaching her. “They say there’s something special about this well. There’s even a legend.”

 

Emma raised her eyebrows, and he set the cups on the stone edge of the well. He reeled up the bucket. “They say that the water from the well is fed by an underground lake, and that lake has magical properties.”

 

“Magic? You sound like Henry.”

 

“Smart kid,” was all he said in return to that. “So, this legend. It says that if you drink the water from the well, something lost will be returned to you.”

 

“You know an awful lot about this town for being a stranger,” she pointed out, her suspicions returning with gusto. He filled the mugs with water.

 

“And you know very little for being the Sheriff,” August countered.

 

“How do you know all this? You’ve been here before?”

 

“I know all of this for one very simple reason.” He paused, smiling enigmatically. “I read the plaque.”

 

She breathed a laugh, walking around to the side of the well, where, sure enough there was a plaque, telling the same story as August had just. “You actually believe that?”

 

“I’m a writer. I have to have an open mind.” He flicked a gloved finger away from his head.

 

“Yeah, but _magic_?”

 

“Water is a very powerful thing. Cultures as old as time have worshipped it. It flows throughout all lands, connecting the entire world. If anything had mystical properties – if anything had magic – well, I’d say it’d be water.”

 

“That’s asking a lot to believe on faith,” Emma pointed out, re-joining him on the other side of the well.

 

“If you need evidence for everything, Emma, you’re going to find yourself stuck in one place for a long time.”

 

“Maybe. Or, maybe I’ll just find the truth before anyone else.”

 

“Well, Miss Sceptic,” he held out a cup, which she accepted. “There’s one thing I can tell you for sure that requires no leap of faith, and I know you’ll agree with me.” He took a sip.

 

“What’s that?”

 

“It’s good water.”

 

He bumped his mug against her own, and she found herself smiling as she took a drink.

 

* * *

 

 

August returned her to the Sherriff’s Station, where she found Killian at his desk, filling out paperwork.

 

To her surprise, he didn’t tease or ask about her date, and when he turned to her, his face was grim. “Have you heard?”

 

A million possibilities raced through Emma’s mind, each more terrible than the last, before she rationalised that she would have been contacted were it something serious. “Heard what?”

 

“Dave left his wife, all right. But she came to the school; had it out with Mary Margaret. The whole town’s talking about it.”

 

“Is Mary Margaret okay?” asked Emma, reaching for her phone before realising that she was likely still teaching.

 

“I don’t know,” Killian sighed. “That’s not mentioned in the gossip, unfortunately. If you want to leave early, I can manage.”

 

Emma shook her head. “No, it’s okay. I’ll stay here, that way Mary Margaret can find me if she wants. Did you get any calls while I was gone?”

 

 They returned to work, pushing their worries to the back of their minds.

 

* * *

 

Emma walked home for the second day in a row, enjoying the small town atmosphere that she had come to assimilate in. She hoped that Mary Margaret was at the loft, and that she was all right.

 

She brushed off the leaves that had accumulated on her beetle, and noticed a slightly worse-for-wear backpack lying beneath her car, its back straps broken.

 

She picked it up, wondering if it belonged to one of Mary Margaret’s students. Its only contents were a book. She scrambled to free it once she realised what it was; the leather bound volume with _Once Upon a Time_ emblazoned across the front. It was undamaged, still bone dry despite the condition of the backpack. Emma bit her lip, looking towards the loft before climbing into the beetle, setting the book on the passenger seat.

 

Killian greeted her with raised eyebrows and a, “Didn’t expect to see you again so soon, Swan. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

 

“Can I talk to Wendy?”

 

The girl, evidently having heard her name, appeared at her adoptive father’s side. “Hi, Emma. What’s up?”

 

“I found the book,” she divulged with a smile. Wendy practically leapt up and down with joy, taking the tome from Emma with reverent care. “I thought it would be cool if you surprised Henry with it tomorrow, since I can’t exactly show up at Regina’s house right now.”

 

Wendy agreed to the idea, hugging the storybook to her chest as she bade Emma a swift goodbye and raced up the stairs.

 

“Would you like to come in?” Killian offered. Emma shook her head.

 

“I haven’t been home yet; I want to see how Mary Margaret’s doing.”

 

He nodded his understanding. “Give her my best.”

 

“Will do.”

 

She made the walk home once more, this time entering the loft to find Mary Margaret curled on her bed. She hesitated, shoulders slumping as she realised how much this had affected her friend.

 

“You feel like talking about it yet?” she asked softly.

 

“Nope,” came the teary response.

 

“You want to be alone?”

 

“Nope.”

 

Dropping her keys on the kitchen table, Emma approached her friend, ready to offer whatever comfort she could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I confused a non-Irish friend with the phrase "giving out" a while ago, so I couldn't resist having Killian do the same.
> 
> I know the events of this episode are probably supposed to span just one day, but hey, creative licence.
> 
> This summer has been crazy, and I apologise for the effect its had on my writing. I did well in my exams, if anyone's wondering, and I'll be starting university on the 12th :)


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to everyone who hasn't given up on this fic by now XD This is the 'Dreamy' chapter

* * *

Emma sighed as she set down her newspaper and left the diner. Seeing the way that the town was treating Mary Margaret since they had found out about her affair made her want to punch several people in the face. As the Sheriff, that was perhaps not the best course of action, so instead she strived to cheer her friend up.

 

“Hey!” she called, catching up to the schoolteacher, who looked a sorry sight, bundled up against the cold, clutching her clipboard to her chest. “Mind if I join you?”

 

Mary Margaret shook her head, and Emma fell into step beside her. “So, what the hell is Miners Day and why are you beating yourself up over it?”

 

“It’s an annual holiday celebrating an old tradition,” she explained, her voice sad. “The nuns used to make candles and trade them with the miners for coal.”

 

“Coal? In Maine? If they were mining for lobster, I’d understand …”

 

“Look, I don’t know,” Mary Margaret sighed. “Now they use it as a fundraiser. It’s an amazing party. Everyone loves it.”

 

Emma raised her eyebrows. “Doesn’t seem like everyone loves it.”

 

“It’s not Miners Day; it’s me. Last week I had ten volunteers. This week they all dropped out.”

 

“You think this is about what happened with David?” asked Emma, feeling a pang of sadness for her friend.

 

“Oh, I know it is. A few of them told me as much. I’ve never … been a home-wrecker before.”

 

“It’s gonna blow over,” Emma assured her, hoping that it was true. Small towns had long memories. “You made a mistake with David; it happens. But you don’t have to do charity to win people’s hearts back.”

 

“Well, I have to do something. And this is the best I can do.”

 

She paused.

 

“Love ruined my life.”

 

Emma’s phone chirped before she could respond to that statement. “Sheriff Swan.”

 

“ _Swan,_ ” the voice of her deputy greeted her. “ _Can you come to the town line? A gym teacher just called me._ ”

 

“Yeah. I’ll be right down,” she hung up the phone, turning to Mary Margaret. “Well, apparently duty calls. But hang in there,” she placed an arm on her friend’s shoulder, hoping to console her. “And if there’s anything I can do to help, I will.”

 

“I know,” Mary Margaret nodded. “Thank you.”

 

With a sad smile, she left.

 

* * *

 

 

“What’s going on here?” asked Emma, getting out of her car.

 

“We found Kathryn’s car,” Killian called to her, from where he was investigating the vehicle in question.

 

“You’re sure it’s hers?”

 

“Quite sure,” he replied, his face grave. “Did you bring the camera?”

 

“Yeah,” said Emma, holding it up.

 

Killian filled her in on what had happened as she began to take some pictures for their investigation.

 

“Look who it is,” he muttered, as Sidney Glass emerged from his car, own camera in hand.

 

“Do you mind if I take a look too?”

 

Killian said nothing, but Emma knew from the tight line of his jaw that he was not happy. She supposed he had known Sidney for longer than she and had formed his own opinion.

 

“What for?” she asked the reporter.

 

“Well, just because I got fired from _The Mirror_ doesn’t mean I can’t do a little freelance reporting.”

 

“This is a private investigation,” Killian said, addressing Emma more than Sidney. She gave a shrug that she hoped conveyed the feeling of ‘What harm could it do?”

 

“So,” said Sidney, taking their silence as an invitation to take a picture of the car. “What do we got here?”

 

“Gym teacher found this thing on the side of the road, abandoned,” said Emma, handing the Polaroids to Killian as she snapped another. “Engine running, no one around. It’s registered to Kathryn Nolan.”

 

“No sign of her, of course.”

 

“Kathryn Nolan?” asked Sidney, his interest obviously peaked. “Whose husband very publicly left her?”

 

“I don’t like where you’re going with this, Glass,” said Killian, as he opened the driver door. The reporter took a picture.

 

“I mean, the story writes itself. If I get a scoop like that, _The Daily Mirror_ would have no choice but to take me back.”

 

“Calm down tiger,” said Emma, taking a picture of her own as Killian sat into the car and took the keys from the ignition. “You don’t work for Regina anymore.”

 

“Kathryn got accepted to a law school in Boston,” said Killian. “She was probably headed that way.”

 

“Exactly," Emma nodded, as the three of them made their way to the back of the car. “Maybe her car broke down, and she hitched the rest of the way. It’s what I would do if I was running away from my problems.”

 

Killian spared her a glance as he opened the trunk of the car.

 

“And would you leave your clothes in the car?”

 

“Time to pull Kathryn’s phone records and find out who she spoke to last.”

 

“You know if you go through the Sherriff’s Department it’ll take you days to get those,” said Sidney. “I’ve got a contact over at the phone company, used to help me out when I was at the newspaper. I can get those in a couple of hours.”

 

She glanced at Killian, who raised his eyebrows. Up to her. Turning back to Sidney, she said, “Great. Call me the _minute_ you get your hands on those phone records.”

 

The three of them looked around at the sight of David’s pickup truck approaching.

 

“There he is.”

 

“Time to break the news,” murmured Emma, as the man emerged from his truck.

 

“You really think he doesn’t know?” asked Sidney.

 

“Well we’ll find out, won’t we?” said Killian.

 

The two of them approached David, leaving Sidney behind.

 

“You know, Swan. I don’t quite trust him.”

 

She glanced at him. “Who? _David_?”

 

“No. Glass. Need I remind you what happened last time you trusted him?”

 

“I know that he used to be pretty deep in Regina’s pocket,” Emma assured him. “I’ll be careful, I promise.”

 

“All right.”

 

“You know … this is pretty much a one-person job, so maybe you could go to Mary Margaret and make sure she’s all right … and that she doesn’t find out anything. Not yet at least.”

 

He quirked an eyebrow. “You want me to babysit your roommate?”

 

“ _Killian_.”

 

“Fine,” he sighed, backing away from her. “But this is just because you’re my boss.” He turned around.

 

“You keep telling yourself that!” she called after him.

 

He shook his head, laughing as he returned to his car, acknowledging David as he passed.

 

* * *

 

 

“Still looking for volunteers?”

 

Mary Margaret considered him suspiciously. “ _You_ want to volunteer?”

 

Killian smiled. “Yes, I do.”

 

She cocked her head, her ‘ _I don’t believe you_ ’ look reminding him strikingly of Emma’s. “Why are you here, Killian?”

 

“I heard about your misfortune and thought you could use a hand.”

 

The teacher narrowed her eyes. “Is that a joke?”

 

“No.”

 

“Emma put you up to this, didn’t she?”

 

Killian sighed. “I assure you, lass. I am not here because of Emma.” He was there because of the investigation, a different matter altogether.

 

“Then why _are_ you here?”

 

“I already told you, I’m here to help a friend.”

 

Mary Margaret blinked, seemingly touched by the statement. “I – you consider me a friend?”

 

“Of course,” he said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. They had known each other for many years, after all. Ever since he had first arrived in Storybrooke, if his memory served him correctly. “You are Wendy’s teacher, after all.”

 

“She’s not your daughter.”

 

“She’s as good as,” he murmured.

 

Mary Margaret smiled at him for the first time since he had approached her. “I’m glad she has you.”

 

“Me too.”

 

She held out a clipboard and pen. “Sign your name here, please.”

 

Managing to balance the clipboard on his prosthetic hand, he signed the bare volunteer sheet.

 

“Killian Jones, at your service,” he made a sweeping bow.

 

Mary Margaret shot him an exasperated look, but she was smiling.

 

* * *

 

 

“Buy your Miners Day candles here!” Mary Margaret called cheerfully, holding out a candle. “Handmade by Storybrooke’s very own nuns! Light your way to a good cause … by buying a candle …” she trailed off, sighing. “This isn’t working.”

 

“Aye, it’s not.”

 

“You know about selling things,” she chewed her lip, looking up at Killian. “How did you do it?”

 

“People generally _want_ fish.”

 

“Okay, I get the point.”

 

“You’re right,” said Leroy. “We should pack it up.”

 

“Now you’re quitting?”

 

“If the customers won’t come to us, we gotta go to them. Door to door.”

 

“Are you daft? If they have no interest in us here, why would they in their homes?”

 

“Exactly. They’ll pay us just to leave.”

 

Killian and Mary Margaret stood, considering the suggestion as Leroy made a start on packing up.

 

“You’re a genius, Leroy!”

 

They packed up the candles, and rushed to make a start of their door to door campaign.

 

“Oh, Emma, help me out!” said Mary Margaret, as the three of them made a quick stop in front of Emma and Sidney. “What’s more sympathetic? Um, scarf … or no scarf?” she undid her scarf, showing both options.

 

Emma stared at the trio. “S-scarf.”

 

“Did something happen?” asked Killian, glancing between the reporter and the Sheriff.

 

“Come on,” Leroy urged. “We’re on a tight schedule.”

 

“We’ll go ahead,” said Mary Margaret. “We don’t need the three of us. Thank you,” she added to Emma. “Gotta go!”

 

“Kathryn didn’t show up for registration at the law school this morning,” said Emma, glancing worriedly at Killian.

 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” asked Sidney. “You’re looking for a suspect. Someone with a motive. Pixie cut over there’s got one a mile high.”

 

“No,” said Emma and Killian at the same time.

 

“She had nothing to do with this.”

 

“But she’s the one—”

 

“Trust me,” said Emma, anger creeping into her voice. “I _know_ her. Just give us those phone records.”

 

“I think it could be worth our while to go through the Sheriff’s Department too.”

 

Emma grimaced. “I’m starting to think you might be right.”

 

* * *

 

 

“I take it it didn’t go well,” said Killian, as Mary Margaret slid onto the stool next to him and ordered a whiskey from Ruby.

 

“Leroy told Sister Astrid that he’d sold all the candles. He says he’s gonna get the money, so I’m holding out hope for that.”

 

“Talk of the devil.”

 

“I’ll have what she’s having,” said Leroy, sitting on the other side of Mary Margaret.

 

“Well? Did you get it?”

 

He took off his hat, shooting her a look. “What d’you think?”

 

Killian smiled wryly. “Hard luck, mate.”

 

“I think you’re right. I was dreaming when I thought that the three of us could accomplish anything.”

 

“Oi; I take offense of that.”

 

Mary Margaret gave a reluctant huff of laughter.

 

“Yup,” said Leroy, into his drink. “Just dreaming.”

 

Killian’s phone rang.

 

“Emma?”

 

” _Killian, I think you were right,_ ” she said, without as much as a hello. “ _Sidney gave me the phone records, and there’s a call between Kathryn and David the night of the crash. But David said he hasn’t spoken to her since that afternoon, and I_ know _he’s telling the truth. Or … he believes he is, anyway._ ”

 

“So, what are you going to do?”

 

“ _I’m going to have to ask David a few questions. You can be sure Regina’s gonna be breathing down my neck. But I’m gonna ask for phone records, too._ Official _phone records._ ”

 

“Okay,” he said. “If you need my help …”

 

“ _Nah, I got this. Go sell some candles._ ”

 

* * *

 

 

“Where have you two been?” Killian called over the crowd. “D’you know how many candles you can sell with one hand?”

 

Mary Margaret was smiling – a good sign. “Oh, shut up.”

 

“Who do you think caused this?” asked Leroy with a half-smile, gesturing to the darkness that surrounded them.

 

Killian could not fault their plan to cause a power cut. Their little stall was swamped with people, looking for candles so that they could see in the blackness. Soon enough, there were no more candles to sell.

 

“Guys …” said Mary Margaret, a tremulous smile on her face as she looked from the empty box in front of her to them. “We sold out.”

 

“We did it!”

 

They laughed, Mary Margaret embracing the two of them – Leroy with such enthusiasm that he lifted her from her feet.

 

Silence fell over the trio, as they stood, watching the crowds.

 

“Well, go on,” Mary Margaret said, noticing Leroy watching Astrid as she talked with some other nuns, all of them holding candles. “Give her the news. Have your moment.”

 

Killian clapped him on the back in encouragement as he picked up the cash box and left the stand.

 

“What now?” he asked, turning to Mary Margaret.

 

“Now … we let everyone know that we succeeded,” the schoolteacher decided, tearing a piece of cardboard from one of the boxes and writing ‘Sold Out!’ in large letters.

 

Killian passed her a black marker so that she could outline her work.

 

“Thank you,” she smiled at him. “For helping me today. Even if Emma did put you up to it.”

 

“Hey!” he protested. “I already said—”

 

She shot him a look, propping the sign up. “It’s okay. And I know why she did it. You found something, didn’t you?”

 

“It’s best not to divulge any information this early in the investigation.”

 

Mary Margaret nodded. “I understand. Look, I’m gonna head home. Do you mind clearing up?”

 

“Of course not.”

 

“Thank you, Killian.”

 

She blew out the candle, and, carrying it with her, made her way over to her car. She did not, however, get into the vehicle, but rather turned and made her way back through the crowds.

 

Killian watched, concerned, as she was stopped by Granny, who relit her candle for her. Mary Margaret continued to walk, until she returned to the stand. She was crying.

 

He offered his good arm to her, and she buried her head in his chest.

 

“It’s not your fault.”

 

“Isn’t it? I should’ve known better than to … go after a married man.”

 

Killian sighed, glancing at the man in question, who had just turned away, guilt evidently getting the better of him. “You didn’t ‘go after’ him. If anything, he did the chasing.”

 

He swallowed, as David was approached by Emma, and escorted into the squad car.

 

“What’s wrong?” asked Mary Margaret, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. She turned around, watching as the car drove away, David watching from the back seat.

 

“No,” she said. “He didn’t do anything.”

 

“I know, love. I know. Come on; I’ll take you home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's kind of sad that Astrid was never brought up again after this episode. I choose to believe she and Leroy are happy somewhere in Storybrooke, being ignored by the main plot


End file.
